


Becoming Winchester

by Blossom2299



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 117,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blossom2299/pseuds/Blossom2299
Summary: What if Adam was brought into the Winchester family earlier while John was still alive? How would he deal with the trauma of losing his mother and seeing the man who was a "fun Dad" show his true colors? How would Sam and Dean react to their new responsibility to a younger brother? Series of One-shots AU/ Weechesters. Mentions of corporal punishment.





	1. Chapter 1

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since he got that frantic call from Adam, the one that sent him flying from the east coast to the tiny town of Windom, Minnesota. He had known instantly when he heard his youngest son's voice that the time had finally come, that something evil had taken its revenge on him and had found the people he'd tried so hard to hide, to protect.

John ran a hand through the scruffy beard that had sprouted on his chin, wishing he hadn't finished off the whiskey in the house last night. He never wanted this for Adam, for Kate. They were innocents, their only crime was knowing him. He kicked himself once again for ever having gotten involved with Kate Milligan. She was a civi, no ties to the wild and weird world that his first love Mary had grown up in. She was such a wonderful and caring woman, in fact, that's what had attracted John to her in the first place when he was laid up in Windom General Hospital and she was making her nursing rounds. She always seemed to look a little more deeply into him, to see past his gruff remarks of "Fine" and "Ready to get outta here," and offer him the soft eyes and gentle support that he hadn't felt in many years. Even after he left the hospital he couldn't resist the soft, sweet call of Kate and her steady knowing looks that entranced him and intrigued him. He made the visit back to Windom more often than he ever should have. He found ways to work jobs that would put him in the area, travel paths that would force him to pass through. Kate was young, not interested in settling down and that suited John just fine. John found excuses to see her for nearly a year before she got pregnant.

The announcement had floored John. She was a nurse so he had assumed that she was taking birth control or something- not that they had ever discussed it. Kate had made it clear from the moment she told John she was pregnant that she didn't expect anything from him. She wanted this baby and it was wholly hers. John wasn't a man to duck and run, he felt obligated to Kate and this new baby, but thoughts of his older two sons, only 4 and 8 at the time, sitting in motel rooms waiting on John's return hardened him to the truth that he wasn't a good father, to begin with and certainly wouldn't be in this situation either. They agreed that Kate would raise Adam. That Adam would know of John but only distantly. John made it a point to still come to Windom a few times a year. If he was being honest with himself it wasn't the fatherly obligation to Adam that encouraged John to make the trek, but the siren call of Kate's soft body and sweet words that kept him coming back over the years.

Gritting his teeth to bite back a sob that threatened to blossom in the back of his throat he tried to block the memories that flashed before him of Kate in the crypt, her body mutilated nearly beyond recognition. John was no stranger to loss death seemed to follow him like a shadow, that much he knew. But this one felt different. Different from Mary's death. Mary was his first true love, his soul mate and better half. Her death sparked a hatred and vengeance to rise in John that he had never known was within him. The loss of Kate brought a deep sadness and guilt that made him feel tired down to his bones. If only she had never met John Winchester. If only.

And now she was gone. And if life wasn't already difficult enough, he now had a traumatized 12 year old on his hands. A boy who he barely knew outside of yearly visits and polite talks about school and sports. He also had two older boys, both seething at him for keeping their younger half-brother a secret for 12 years. John knew they wouldn't understand, he didn't even bother trying to give an explanation when he told them to haul ass to Windom and introduced them to their brother a week ago.

"Dad?" a voice said from behind him on the front porch. John turned slightly to acknowledge his oldest son Dean but didn't say anything.

"So...What are we doing here?" Dean asked, trying for force what he hoped was a respectful tone on what he knew to be a disrespectful question.

"What do you mean?" John replied, continuing to stare off into the distance.

"It's just that we've been here for over a week now... I mean is this it? I'm still trying to get on board with the whole "new brother thing"... maybe you could shed some light on the situation?"

John scrubbed a palm over his face and through his hair, causing it to stick up in all different directions.

"I'm trying to take care of things here Dean. The funeral? The house? All of Adam and Kate's belongings? You think I can just pick the kid up, dump him in the Impala and get back to hunting?" John found he had to work to unclench his jaw, "No son, as much as I would like to just get in the car and get back to it, that's not the way it's gonna happen. Adam deserves more than that. He deserved more than this."

Dean was silent, not wanting to push any further and risk making his father angry. He bit the inside of his cheek, stifling himself of the hateful things he wanted to say. Dean couldn't help all the hurt and anger that his father had created since his introduction of Adam. John Winchester had been known to do some shitty things, but this secret was a whole new level.

Without another word, Dean turned and went back into the house leaving John alone with his thoughts again. John was well aware of the turmoil he had created in his little family, he bore the pain of it daily, but he was thankful that Dean wouldn't call him on it.


	2. Get Packed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few days after Kate's death, John decides it time to get back to work.

Adam walked into the kitchen to find his older brothers scrounging around the cabinets and refrigerator trying to find the last remnants of the food Adam and his mother had purchased at the store two weeks ago. Before...

"Adam." He startled slightly his father's deep voice. He hadn't noticed him at the small table with a cup of coffee. "Go upstairs and get packed, we'll be leaving soon - that goes for you boys too," John said, causing the older boys to turn to face him and nod.

"Leaving? Why? Where we goin?" Adam questioned curiously.

His questions were not answered, however, only given a gruff sigh as his father nodded to the older boys again. "Dean, help him."

"Yes, sir," Dean said, tossing a half-empty package of saltine crackers at Sam and walking toward Adam.

"Come on, kid," he said gently grabbing Adam by the shoulder and pushing him out of the kitchen toward the stairs.

Adam dug through the bottom of his closet coming up with a worn duffle bag. "This?" he said showing the bag to Dean.

"Yeah, that'll work." His brother replied, pausing then to look around the room. "Grab your clothes and stuff..." Dean hesitated a moment before clearing his throat uncomfortably "and maybe grab a few pictures of your mom."

"My mom? Why" Adam asked, pausing in grabbing shirts from his closet.

Dean didn't reply and didn't look him in the eye, choosing instead to roughly grab the duffel from Adam's hands and move toward the kid's dresser.

"Dean?" Adam started, feeling more confused. "Dean. Man, what's going on? Where are we going? Why do I need pictures! We're coming back... right? We're coming back?"

Again Dean didn't reply and didn't look at him. Adam could feel adrenaline being to pump hot in his veins.

"Dean!" He nearly shouted. "Dean! Come on!"

Dean threw down the duffle, pissed off he was responsible once again for crushing a kid's dreams. Why couldn't his dad man up and do this shit? Dean was forever having to break the bad news about their latest move to Sam and now he was relegated to breaking it to Adam too.

"Goddammit Adam, no! We aren't coming back. Dad hunts. We hunt. You can't do that living here."

Adam looked completely stunned and as the realization slowly hit him he felt his legs give out and he collapsed onto the bed behind him. Leaving. Moving. Moving to god knows where. With his dad. A man he barely knew and two brothers he'd only just met.

A feeling of total crushing hopelessness overtook him. All he could think of was how much he didn't want this. Any of this. 'I just want my mom.' He thought, feeling a sob building in his chest.

Dean watched Adam absorb what his father's simple words of "get packed" actually meant for him. Never one for chick flick moments Dean still wanted to comfort the kid somehow. He sighed reluctantly and went to sit next to Adam on the bed.

"Look kid. I know. This sucks. It does." Dean glanced at his new kid brother. His eyes were closed tightly, trying to keep in the tears that threatened to spill out.  
Dean sighed again quietly and ran a hand through his hair bristling it in all directions.

"Look- and I'm just being honest here- but your life, the life you had here, it was gone the minute your mom was killed." Adam visibly flinched at Dean's words. "but you're not alone. You've got us- and yeah I know it might suck- but it's something."

Adam didn't reply, but let out a shaky sigh.

"Come on man," Dean said clapping Adam on the back and standing up "Let's get this shit packed before Dad comes up here and beats both our asses."


	3. Training Days

Sam looked up from his book as the motel room door swung open and Dean sauntered in, Adam shuffling slowly behind him. Dean tossed his duffle of weapons on the floor with a thud and Sam watched as Adam flopped down across the motel bed and promptly fell asleep.

"Jesus Dean what'd you do to the kid?" Sam asked, eyeing his little brother's still form, his chest rising and falling slowly in an already deep sleep.

"Nothing man," Dean replied, grabbing a beer from the room's mini fridge and cracking off the cap with his ring, "I think the training is just catching up to him."

Sam didn't take his eyes off his younger brother, he knew the kid was exhausted; P.T. every morning at 5, school all day, training with Dean, and finally, research with Sam at night. It seemed like too much to ask of an adult much less a 12-year-old.

"It's too much Dean," Sam said putting a voice to his concerns.

Dean glanced over at his passed out little brother, lying horizontally across the mattress, one arm under his head, his mouth open in sleep.

"I know," Dean said sitting down across from Sam at the small table. "I know," he said again with a sigh.

Dean took a long pull at the beer, swallowing slowly before continuing, "But Dad wants him to be prepared- to be able to protect himself."

"I get that," Sam agreed, for once not directly arguing with their father's orders, "But it's too much too soon you know? I mean look at the kid! He's dead on his feet. He can't remember half of the lore I'm trying to teach him cause he's so tired. I wouldn't be surprised if you get a call from school this week about him falling asleep in class,"

"Shit," Dean said leaning forward in his seat, putting his forearms on his knees. "That's the last thing we need."

The brothers were silent, each trying to think of a solution. Adam had to be trained, Dad had ordered it, but the breakneck pace of trying to get him up to speed was undoing most of the work they put in.  
Dean took another long sip of his beer and stood up.

"Well look, I'm gonna go grab some burgers for dinner, let him sleep," he said sitting the beer on the table and grabbing the keys to the Impala. He walked out without another word.

Sam sighed, grabbing the beer Dean left and finishing it off. He shook his head and grabbed Adam's backpack from under the table. Taking out a stack of books and papers Sam spread them out on top of his own homework and research on the tiny motel table.

Before long Dean was back and gently shaking Adam awake.

"Come on kid. Wake up. We've got dinner," he said, grabbing his own burger out of the bag he had placed next to Adam's head.

Adam stirred slightly, grumbling and turning his face away to hide in the crook of his arm.

"Yeah and you've got homework too Adam," Sam said, still sitting at the table.

Adam groaned again loudly but didn't move.

"You can't just do it for him, Sammy?" Dean asked, opening his burger.

"I did Dean," Sam said in a huff, "But he still has to study these algebra formulas for his test tomorrow. "I can't take the damn test,"

"I wish you could" Adam mumbled, finally pushing himself up and into a sitting position on the bed. "I'm gonna fail," he said, rubbing his face trying to wake himself up somewhat.

"You're not gonna fail," Sam said reassuringly.

"Yeah you better not," Dean said around a mouthful of burger, "Cause Dad will kick your ass and then he'll kick Sam's."

Adam looked over at Dean questioningly and then at Sam who only sorta sighed with a sad look.

"Ugh," was the only word Adam could muster.

He'd only been living with his dad and brothers for a month or so now, but he'd never felt so completely worn out and exhausted in all his life. Every day was the same: get shaken awake by Dean or Sam at 5am for a three mile run, then hurry back for a shower and breakfast before getting to school, trying paying attention all day till 3 when Dean came to pick him up for either sparring or weapons training, dinner, then homework and as much research, Latin and lore as Sam could manage to stuff into him before he fell asleep with his head on the books.

Sam looked at Dean sympathetically, but the older boy just shrugged taking his burger and going to sit on the falling down motel couch in front of the television.

Adam dug into the bag of fast food Dean had set near him and although his stomach ravenously growled for it, he had no interest in the burger. He brought it over to the table with Sam and ate mechanically as his older brother pointed out the algebra formulas he'd need to know for tomorrow's test.

After several hours Adam couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and Sam gratefully excused him from studying the history of the kitsunie and Adam threw himself into bed and into a deep and dreamless sleep.

All too soon Adam felt himself being shaken awake and he groaned, not wanting the day to begin.

"Come on son," a deep voice said, smoothing his hair back from his face.

Adam's eyes flew open to see his dad standing above him, a soft smile on his face in the dim morning light.

"You're back," Adam said, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"Time to get rolling," John said, nodding to his other two boys who were already awake and in various stages of dress. "Four miles today boys," he said sitting down next to Adam to lace up his own sneakers.

Adam grit his teeth to hold in a groan of displeasure. He couldn't even run the three miles his dad wanted without having to stop every 10 minutes, how was he gonna make it four?

"Come on," John said, patting Adams back to encourage him to get moving.

Adam got out of bed and tossed on his running clothes and shoes not even bothering to look in the mirror and in a few moments all the Winchesters were headed down the road.

John and Dean set the pace and Adam struggled to keep up from the beginning. Sam ran beside him, quietly whispering words of encouragement on the otherwise silent run. 

They didn't seem to make it very far before John noticed Adam lagging behind.

"Come on boy! Step it up!" He yelled back at his youngest who was red-faced and panting.

Adam pushed harder, closing the gap between them that had arisen. A few minutes later, however, his body revolted and he was forced to stop and throw up into the grass on the side of the road.

John heard the sound and jogged back to his youngest who was on his knees in the gravel, retching and panting.

The other boys came back as well and Dean crouched down to inspect his younger brother and pat his back.

"What the hell Dean?" John said, unexpectedly angry.

Dean looked up in surprise, "Sir?" He questioned in confusion.

"I thought you were training him! We are barely over three miles and he's upchucking?"

Dean stood to face his father, his own breath coming short due to the run and the shocking anger laced through John's voice.

"We are training sir," Dean replied, risking a glance down at Adam, who had at least stopped throwing up and was beginning to stand up on his own "He's doing better, he's just not used to it yet,"

"God Dammit! Is this how it's going?" John yelled, pacing around in front of the boys.

Dean and Sam exchanged a worried glance behind their father's back and Dean surreptitiously moved so that he was standing slightly in front of Adam, on guard.

"Adam!" John yelled suddenly, stopping his pacing and turning to face his youngest. "How do you kill a Wendiego?"

Adam stared back, hands on his hips trying to stretch out his body enough to let some oxygen into his lungs. "Umm," he said slowly between labored breaths.

John looked at him expectantly. Adam glanced over at Sam who stood beside him.

"No," John commanded. "Don't look at him; answer the question."

Adam's mind spun 'Wendigo, Wendigo, Wendigo' he repeated internally ' Silver, right? No no, something in blood, no. Shit! What was it? Fire?'.

Adam's mouth went completely dry and he stuttered aloud, "I uh.. Umm." He was terrified to be wrong in the face of the furious man in front of him.

"Jesus!" John yelled, spinning away from all the boys and kicking at the gravel in a rage.

"This shit is important!" He growled, turning back to face them "It's life or death here! I know you know that!"

Dean straightened, putting his chin up a little in a small gesture of defiance "Of course we know that, sir," he said, "and we are all working really hard here."

"It sure as hell don't look like it!" John bellowed.

"Dad!" Sam yelled back, unable to keep his own temper in check any longer "We are working! And Adam is doing great! But he's just a kid!"

"Just a kid!?" John rumbled, taking a menacing step toward Sam, "Just a kid?! You think some fucking werewolf is gonna care that he's a kid?"

John took another step and Dean moved from his position by Adam to step over closer to Sam.

"Did those fucking ghouls care that he's just a kid?!" John was nearly screaming now, gesturing wildly in Adam's direction.

Sam risked a sidelong glance at his younger brother and found him pale white, eyes wide in shock.

"No!" John yelled again "No. All they care about is that he's a Winchester and he's fair game! So all three of you better get fucking serious about this!" He said pointing at the boys before he spun and walked away, ending the conversation abruptly and leaving them in a stunned silence.

"Fuck off..." Sam said quietly, glaring at his father's back. Dean turned quickly to look at Sam, shock, and disbelief all over his face.

John froze mid-stride and turned back around, "What did you say, boy?"

Sam straightened up to his full height, glaring daggers at his father.

"How dare you?! How dare you bring up those fucking ghouls and use it as an excuse. Don't try to make us feel like shit cause you weren't there! It's not our fault! It's not Adam's fault!"

John crossed the space between them in two long strides and had his fists wrapped in the front of Sam's t-shirt before he even had a moment to realize he'd moved. "You disrespectful little shit," he growled, shaking Sam slightly with each word.

"Hey! Hey!" Dean said forcing himself between the two "Come on! It's too early for this!"

John let Sam go with a small shove. "Four miles Sam! Now!" John yelled, pointing down the road and fixing Sam with a threatening stare.

Sam hesitated, clenching his jaw and fists, but after a quick side glance at Dean he took off down the road.

John huffed angrily, rubbing a hand through his two-day stubble trying to get ahold of his temper. "Let's finish this and get back," he said to his two remaining sons with a forced calmness he didn't truly feel. "You gonna be ok Adam?"

Adam, his color somewhat returned to normal, nodded.

With that, John took off determined to finish the run Dean and Adam behind him.

When Sam made it back to the motel about an hour later Adam was dozing on the couch with his math textbook in his lap. Dean was cleaning weapons he had spread out on the coffee table.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked when he walked in.

"Right here," came a reply from the bathroom door. "Get yourself a shower, we need to talk before you leave for school."

Sam bit the inside of his lip and didn't meet his father's eye as he grabbed his bag and walked past into the bathroom.

"Dean, do the boys need a note or something for school?" John asked.

Dean didn't look up from his weapons, "Nah I don't think so, they aren't gonna be that late."

A few minutes later Sam was out of the shower, dressed, and packing up his own schoolbooks. Dean shook Adam awake and told him to get his stuff together for school. Before the trio could sneak out the door, however, John called out from his place at the motel table.

"Sam, we need to have that talk," he said slowly, standing up from the table and undoing the buckle of his belt, pulling it through the loops of his jeans.

Adam's stomach dropped as he watched the well-practiced motion and he pulled quickly on the back of Dean's shirt, hoping Dean would say or do something.

"Dad," Dean said hesitantly, "Is that really necessary?"

John doubled the belt over in his hand, gripping the leather. "You think I'm just gonna let my son tell me to 'Fuck off' and get away with only a run as punishment?" he said calmly.

Dean looked over at Sam, who was standing stock still nervously clenching his jaw and staring at his father's boots. Sam's blatant disrespect had struck a nerve with their father and now he was going to pay dearly for it. Dean was at least thankful that his father had calmed down since the run and would likely only punish Sam instead of beating the daylights out of him.

Dean licked his dry lips, "Dad..." he started.

"Dean! Don't start!" John growled, cutting him off. "You're brother's gonna learn some respect."

"Dad! Please!" Adam called out quietly from Dean's side.

"Dean, take Adam outside," John said; his eyes locked on Sam who still had not moved, but was now glaring daggers at the motel room carpet.

Dean hesitated. It was against every brotherly instinct he had to leave Sam to their father's wrath, but he knew there was no way out of this one and that nothing he could say or do would change John's mind. Any more defiance from himself or Adam would only end in all three of them getting beaten and Dean knew Sam didn't want that.

"Now," John said forcefully.

Sighing Dean tossed a sympathetic look at the back of Sam's head before grabbing his keys off the coffee table. "Come on Adam,"

Adam followed shortly behind, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look at either Sam or his dad as they walked past and out the door.

Sitting in the Impala outside, Adam was thankful he couldn't hear whatever "talk" they were having inside. He was still struggling to keep tears from falling when Dean asked him, "You ok kid?"

Adam could only give a noncommittal shrug as a response.

"Sam'll be ok. Don't worry." Dean said propping his elbow on the windowsill of the car and running a hand through his hair.

Finally, Adam could keep quiet no longer and although he knew Dean's hatred of 'chick-flick moments', he stuttered out "He's in trouble 'cause of me."

Dean turned and looked at him, "No kid, Sam's in trouble 'cause of his own big mouth. You didn't do anything wrong."

Adam looked over at him, unconvinced.

Sneering at the fact he was going to have to do this stupid emotional crap, Dean continued "Sam and Dad are a lot alike. They've both got a temper and they both can't keep their stupid mouths shut when they get mad. It's not you. Dad's just mad that he wasn't there to protect you from those ghouls. That's why he's pushing so hard on this training thing. Sam's just pissed cause he wants to protect you from Dad."

Adam carefully watched Dean's face, scrutinizing him for any sign of a lie. After being convinced he was telling the truth, he sighed deeply and slumped further into the front seat, "Still feels like it's my fault."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Well it ain't so shut up about it."

At that moment, the door of the motel opened and Sam came out red rimmed eyes, and dark expression on his face. He opened the back door of the Impala and gingerly sat down in the seat. Dean watched in the rearview and didn't miss the pained look that crossed his brother's face.

Adam wished he could melt into the seat of the car, he wanted so badly to apologize to Sam but he sensed that now wasn't the time. He vowed to himself to work harder on his training and do whatever he could to prevent his brothers from getting into trouble on his behalf. It wasn't their fault he was so terrible at all this. He knew he had to step up his game or they would all pay the price.


	4. Comfort of a Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's new to this whole big brother thing.

Chapter 2.2

_Timeline- 12-year-old Adam has been with the Winchesters for only about three weeks at this point, John is away on a hunt._

Sam walked into the dingy motel room expecting his new younger brother to come bounding up to him, excited as a puppy, that he had returned. It wasn't lost on Sam that he seemed to be the only one Adam trusted. Even having known their father all his life and Sam only three weeks, Adam immediately clung to his new brother after Sam had shown him some attention and comfort. It was easy to understand though. John and Dean Winchester had never been known as the touchy-feely types and although Dean could play maternal when it came to Sam, he was still resentful of Adam and everything the 12-year-old represented.

Sam was still finding his footing with being an older brother. He had hoped he would fall into the role with all the skill and ease that Dean seemed to show, but it was more difficult than he expected. Adam was lost. He was emotional. He was on the edge of being a teenager and being thrown headlong into the Winchester Army was not helping. Not surprisingly Adam had developed a deep-seated hatred for all things supernatural after his mother's murder and like their father, he was set on revenge. Although he was new to the wild weird world of monsters and witches and the like, he took to it like a man starved. He devoured the lore that Sam taught him and gave everything he had to Dean's physical training sessions. The kid was permanently exhausted on top of being emotionally scarred. Sam figured that made Adam perfect hunter material in their father's eyes.

When Adam didn't appear in front of him when Sam opened the door, he was immediately concerned. Sam scanned the silent room, only seeing Dean sitting on one of the sinking motel beds sharpening his favorite hunting knife their younger brother nowhere to be found.

"Where's Adam?" Sam questioned, worriedly. Although Sam would never doubt Dean's ability to watch out for Adam despite his feelings for the boy, he was still anxious not to see him in the room.

Dean gave a silent nod toward the closed door of the motel room's small bathroom.

It was then that Sam noticed the muffled sound of sobs coming from through the walls. He immediately crossed the room headed toward the bathroom before he was stopped midway by Dean standing up in front of him.

"Leave him alone, Sammy," Dean said quietly, putting a gentle hand to Sam's chest to stop him.

"Dean. We should help him, or something." Sam implored.

Truth be told, as much as Sam felt the need to comfort Adam he wasn't sure what he would do. Being raised by John and Dean, Sam didn't exactly have the tools he wanted to have to really help someone who was in as deep of an emotional cavern as Adam was.

"Sam. Give him some time ok?" Dean replied, keeping his voice low.

Sam didn't push but still wasn't sure if leaving Adam alone in mourning was the right thing to do. He wanted to help. More than anything he wanted to help. Sam wanted to commiserate with Adam at least. They had both lost their mothers, that should have been enough, but logically Sam knew his own loss was no comparison to Adam's. Sam had no memory of his own mother, so the loss he felt was more of an aching emptiness of what should have been. Dean's own feelings were probably closer to what Adam was experiencing, although he was a preschooler at the time of their mother's death. But that was years ago. Adam's loss was fresh, painful and ever-present. Sam could see it in the kid's eyes. Something inside him was broken now, a great divide along his heart that would shrink with time but never heal. It was the same look he saw in his older brother's eyes.

Sam sighed and backed away, sitting down on the bed. Dean followed, grabbing his knife and sharpening stone, picking up where he left off.

"We should do something," Sam whispered, more to himself than to his brother.

"There's nothing to do." came Dean's soft reply. "He needs to get it out and he sure as shit doesn't wanna do it in front of us."

Sam looked over at his brother questioningly. He'd been working hard to let Adam know that he was here if Adam ever wanted to talk or needed a shoulder to cry on.

"Come on man," Dean said casually, "Did you let anyone see you cry when you were his age?"

Point taken.

Sam sighed softly, feeling helpless and useless. He'd been shocked when their father admitted Adam's existence to them. He'd expected to find himself as outraged as Dean was with the whole situation, but he wasn't. He was surprised that he understood his father's want of the comforts of a woman and that John had hidden Adam and Kate to keep them safe. Truthfully, Sam's only problem with the situation was that he had missed out on knowing Adam for so long. During the 9-hour ride to meet their younger brother for the first time Sam had gotten more and more excited about the idea of being a big brother. Dean was a shining example of everything a brother could be and the thought of being able to pay even a little of that forward to Adam, thrilled Sam.

But sitting on motel room bed its scratchy bedspread tickling his legs, Sam felt nothing of the excitement and hopefulness he once had. He could hear just how hard Adam was sobbing in the bathroom, surely hard enough to make him throw up. Dean was stoically sharpening his knife in a steady methodical movement, dutifully ignoring the pitiful sound.

A few minutes later the noise had softened and the brothers heard the sound of the shower being started.

Dean had finished sharpening his knife and was putting it away along with some of his other tools and weapons.

"I'm gonna go out for a bit," he said, grabbing his jacket off the bed. "Don't get too heavy on him Sam," he warned as he took the car keys from his pocket.

Sam gave Dean a nod of understanding and watched his older brother leave, the door closing softly behind him.

Dean's meaning was clear. He'd left to give Adam space to be vulnerable with Sam since Dean's own presence around Adam was still awkward and tense, but Sam was not to get too emotional and set the kid to crying again.

Sam sat for a moment on the bed unsure of what to do next. He soon decided to grab the research he'd brought back from the library. Since Adam was always interested in the latest lore that he'd discovered, Sam could use that as a jumping off point to comfort his brother without it being too uncomfortable.

Sam was intently reading the pages he had printed, pen poised to circle and draw arrows to points of interest when the tiny motel room bathroom door finally opened and his younger brother appeared.

They stared at each other for a moment, both aware that Sam had heard Adam's breakdown in the bathroom. Adam was clearly waiting to see how Sam would play the situation, standing in the doorway with a suspicious and uncertain look on his face.

"So, I brought back some stuff on the Black Dog legend we heard about," Sam said, nodding down to the stack of papers around him.

The look of relief that passed Adam's features was unmistakable and Sam was pleased he'd found the right way to deal with the situation.

Several hours later the two had demolished all the lore Sam had brought back with him as well as four bowls of cereal between them. Sam had wanted to bring up Adam's mourning several times, but every time a break in conversation would come he could feel Adam rush into the next topic as if he could sense Sam's need to comfort him and wanted to push it off but wasn't willing to turn away.

It wasn't how Sam had hoped he could help his little brother, but maybe Dean was right. The kid needed to some time. The loss was still so fresh. Maybe just being around and being a good brother could be enough for now.


	5. John's Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's thoughts after a hunt gone sideways.

John would have kicked his own ass, if he could, letting that damn beast get the drop on him. As it was he could barely breathe without feeling a stabbing pain rip through him because of the torn muscle in his chest. He was thankful the claws hadn't made it through to their intended goal of ripping out his heart, but the pain of tear, combined with his dislocated shoulder, made it hard to remember that.

John was more than thankful, however, that this had not been a solo hunt. After the beast mauled him he was able to get in a good deep stab to its underbelly then Dean finished it off from behind with the oak branch dipped in lamb's blood.

John smiled a bit to himself through his grimace of pain as he remembered Dean's field medic skills. The boy was fast and thorough resetting his dislocated shoulder. The worst of his bleeding had clotted before the beast next to them had even gone cold.

After returning to the motel his two youngest sons took in the sight of John's injuries. John was happy to let middle son, Sam, handle the more delicate work of the numerous stitches the slice in his chest would require. Sam didn't love it, but he was steady and methodical, able to detach himself from both patient and pain, in a way that his older brother had never been able to. Youngest son, Adam simply watched quietly from his station on one of the motel beds, while John drank himself calm and Sam silently sewed.

John knew that Adam had once had ambitions to be a doctor; Kate had been a nurse before she passed, and several times during their yearly meetings Adam had mentioned the prospect. Through the increasingly dense fog of the whiskey, John wondered what Adam thought to the Winchester brand of medicine. No doubt this was the first time he'd ever witnessed a man having his chest sewn back together by a 16-year-old wielding nothing but a needle, pen knife, and dental floss.

As John gritted his teeth through what felt like a particularly painful stab of Sam's needle, he stole a glance at Adam. The 12-year-old was watching intently, eyes darting from Sam's needle to John's face and back again. John had half expected the kid to be a little green around the gills seeing the blood and half of his old-man muscle hanging off his chest, but if anything he looked excited. John made a mental note to have Sam start field medic training with Adam as soon as possible. If he had half the talent Sam did, and any actual desire (something Sam did not), Adam could be a priceless tool in the Winchester hunter's army. Maybe his skills could come in handy bartering with other hunters, John thought.

After being given the all clear by his sullen 16-year-old nurse, John very gingerly shrugged on a clean flannel shirt and poured another glass of whiskey to numb the pain. He rolled the glass around in his hand, watching the liquid slowly sloshing around the cup, his back to his three sons. He couldn't face them. Not now. Not with the embarrassment of 38 stitches across his chest. He felt the heat of it on his face. He should have been watching. He shouldn't have been distracted by the girl's screaming. Of course, she was going to scream. She was probably due a lifetime of therapy after watching her boyfriend mutate into an 8-foot tall, hairy, clawed beast.

John mentally kicked himself again. How many times had he told the boys, yelled at them, "Focus! Any distraction could get you killed!" And here he was brought down by a screaming girl. John felt his jaw clench tightly as the tide of his embarrassment ebbed and rose again in anger. He hated so many things about himself, this was just another to add to the list. Another time when he WASN'T. He wasn't fast enough, focused enough, or smart enough.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and instead stifled a gasp at the sharp, blinding pain it caused when at the same time behind him he distantly heard, "Dad? Are we getting dinner soon?" in Adam's soft tone.

Through a haze of whiskey and pain, he couldn't stop the rage the reared up, pure annoyance that any of the boys would talk to him right now.

"What?" John answered through gritted teeth, turning around slowly, his chest wound and shoulder throbbing in time to his own heartbeat.

"Are we gonna get dinner? There not much left here," Adam trailed off, suddenly taking note of his John's clenched jaw and rigid stance.

The pain affected John more than he would ever admit, making him blind with anger. His free hand twitched at his side unconsciously. Before he could reach out to backhand the boy Dean swung in from behind Adam, grabbing him by the shoulders and hustling him out the door of the room, hollering for Sam and mentioning something about leftovers to John.

John looked down at the tumbler of whiskey still in his hand as he clearly heard Dean admonish Adam outside, "Come on man! Read the room! You almost got your ass kicked back there." The room door then clicked closed, muffling the conversation.

Hearing the concern in his oldest's voice bled all the rage from John's heart leaving only the open ache of his new stitches. He really had almost hit his youngest son just for asking about dinner. John swallowed the shame of the realization, putting a hand up to cover his eyes. He hated himself again, more even than before.


	6. Nights in the Impala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys spend the night in the Impala after a run-in with John's temper.

"We've never done this with three before," Sam said to Dean.

Dean didn't take his eyes off the road as he replied, "The back floorboard's flat and he's small," he said, "he can get the blanket."

Adam knew "he" was the one Dean was referring to but was completely confused as to what his brothers were talking about.

Before long, Dean pulled the car off into a desolate looking parking lot. Sam got out of the front seat. Dean then slid over, stretching himself across the entirety of the seat, leaning back against the passenger side door.

Adam heard Sam open and close the trunk, and he was soon unceremoniously pushed further across the backseat when Sam opened the back door and got back in the car. Sam shoved the blanket into Adam's chest as the younger boy stared at him blankly.

"Lay down," Sam said, nodding toward the floor of the car.

Adam stared down at his feet. The floorboards in the car were flat, unlike in newer model cars, and yes he was physically small, or at least smaller than his older brothers, but what he couldn't comprehend was why he was being told lay down and presumably go to sleep.

Adam remained motionless and finally, Dean spoke up from the front seat, not opening his eyes or moving from his position.

"Kid, it's 2 am. Lay the fuck down and go to sleep," Dean murmured tiredly.

Seeing no other option Adam slid off the cushion of the back seat and into the floorboard. He squirmed to get the blanket up into a makeshift pillow and under his head. Adam was distantly thankful that it wasn't a cold night since the one blanket seemed to be all his brothers had for comfort in the car.

He stared up at Sam as the older boy attempted to get comfortable on the back seat, contorting his 6 foot 1 frame into a semi-reclined position. Sam gave him a weak smile, one that said, "this sucks, but it's okay,"

Adam wished he could sneak a look at his oldest brother in the front. He could imagine him, leaning against the passenger side door, arms folded, head against the glass, bruise in the shape of their father's fist blooming on his cheek. Adam squeezed his eyes closed tightly, trying not to see the moment of impact in his mind's eye.

Adam, of course, knew that some kids got hit growing up. Over the course of the past six months with his father and new older brothers, he'd witnessed John give the boys a few light cuffs to the back of the head. Hell, he'd even gotten a few himself when he had been disrespectful. But he honestly never expected to see his father like he had tonight. So completely consumed with rage and alcohol that John was a different person. Adam never expected Dean to stand between himself and their father and take a punch for him. Certainly not after all the months of disdain and distance between them. Dean hardly ever even used Adam's name, preferring to call him "kid" or "squirt" or some other slightly derogatory term.

To be honest Adam felt like he was still getting used to this whole "brother" thing. Until a few months ago he was an only child, a lonely existence sometimes sure, especially when his mom worked long shifts at the hospital, yet it was one he was comfortable in. Since he'd been thrown in with these two new older brothers he found himself on unsure footing. Should he thank Dean for protecting him? Was that something brothers did?

From what little Adam had been able to glean about the depths of Dean's personality he didn't seem to appreciate any show of emotions. Anytime Adam got upset, thinking about his mom, or the things he was failing at during their training, Dean told him to "suck it up." So no, a thank you was probably not due. It felt strange especially since the cause of this whole mess was Dad. Dad who hit Dean. Dad who was coming after Adam.

Adam felt the cold fear of the moment again in his stomach. He hadn't known. He didn't know the signs. Sam and Dean did apparently. They had been quiet and careful from the moment their father walked in the door around midnight. Adam had woken up, excited to hear about the latest hunt. He'd never been around someone who came home drunk; he didn't notice the slow, slightly slurred words. He was more interested in hearing about the Woman in White his dad had discovered two towns over. Thinking back, he realized Sam tried to shush him. Dean had hissed at him to go back to bed. Adam felt stupid now having not listened to them.

But the Dad he knew- he wasn't that guy. The Dad he knew was a take-you-for-ice-cream-ask-about-school kinda dad. He was not the dangerous angry man Adam had seen tonight.

Adam lay on the floorboard of the Impala listening to his brother's soft breathing desperately wanting wake Sam and ask him more about what happened. Why it happened. What he should do if it happened again. Adam wanted to ask but he was scared. If they talked about it then there was no denying it. It did happen. He knew enough to know that voicing his fears could make them real. His ice-cream dad was a scam, a person who probably never really existed and the hateful drunk Adam saw tonight was his real father.

Nothing about this new life with the Winchesters made sense.

Adam knew his dad. Well, he thought he did. Up until tonight, he was always a hard but fair man, with a deep gentle voice. He was never a man to be disrespected sure, but he wasn't outright frightening and unreasonably violent.

Tonight though…

Adam wished he could pinpoint what he had done to set his father off. He really didn't know. If he did, he sure as hell wouldn't do it again. He'd been asking about the hunt, receiving short, gruff answers from their father in return. That in itself wasn't unusual. Dad was always tired and it was late so that all made sense. It seemed like out of nowhere that John had turned on him, snapping at him, suddenly yelling and flipping the motel room table.

Adam had been shocked into stillness, too startled to move away from what was quickly spiraling into a dangerous scene. Dean had appeared in front of him from nowhere, hands open in a non-threatening manner, voice calm and respectful. It wasn't enough though, John's switch had flipped and there was no going back. Adam didn't even see the punch, instead only hearing the sickening sound of fist meeting flesh so forcefully that Dean was driven to the ground. Sam was there instantly, picking Dean off the floor with one arm and shoving Adam out the door with the other.

Adam twisted uncomfortably on the floor of the Impala earning himself a concerned and slightly annoyed look from Sam.

He closed his eyes, wishing for what must have been the millionth time that he was home in his bed, listening for his mom to come in from a late night shift. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stop thinking of her. Instead, he went back to trick he'd taught himself over the last few months to clear his mind- spelling Latin exorcisms.

E

X

O

R

C

I

Z

A

M

U

S….

_A/N- Don't own Supernatural_


	7. Adam's Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam faces the consequences of not taking training as seriously as his father demands.

Dean had driven them out to what looked like an abandoned barn for practice and Adam couldn't have been more excited. They had been working with knives for nearly two months and Dean had finally decided it was time to move on to firearms.

"You ready for this?" Dean asked as he grabbed a duffel filled with ammo out of the trunk of the Impala.

"Yeah," Adam responded, having to stop himself from bouncing excitedly. He could hardly wait, he'd been thinking about shooting practice for weeks. In his dreams, he was emptying clips into the evil monster bastards that killed his mother. He just knew he was gonna be good at this. After what could be considered an epic fail with ropes, a pretty terrible run with the knives and generally messing up just about every other training technique Dean had tried to instill in him, Adam knew that his real talent had to be guns. He knew that'd he'd be able to outshoot his older brothers in no time and then Dad would really be impressed with him. He'd be able to go out on hunts with them and not get stuck in the motel rooms anymore. He could hunt down every ghoul in the world and make them pay for what they did to his mother. Yeah, he was ready for this.

Dean made short work of setting up a target for Adam, a simple chalk drawn bulls-eye on one of the barn doors. He walked back to his youngest brother, who was standing about 15 feet away with the duffel of ammo at his feet.

"OK, let's start with the handgun," Dean said, checking the clip and safety of his Colt and handing it to Adam.

Adam was briefly in awe. He knew how much Dean cherished this silver-plated gun; it was practically part of him. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't see the pearl handle sticking out of the back of Dean's jeans, hidden by his jacket.

Adam took the gun and felt the weight of it in his hand. It was slightly heavier than it had been all those times cleaning it, compliments of a full chamber. He lifted it, right hand on the grip, finger next to the trigger with his left hand supporting his right, like Dean had taught him. He widened his stance slightly and relaxed his shoulders eyeing the target.

"Don't forget the kick," Dean said absently.

Adam moved his finger to the trigger and took a breath, pulling on the exhale like he'd been told. All in one instant he felt his wrists explode in pain as the gun recoiled and his eardrums shook from the deafening blast.

"Don't close your eyes kid!" Dean snapped.

Adam's eyes flew open. He hadn't even realized they had been squeezed shut as if that could protect him from the loud blast of the gun. He stood still hands frozen on the weapon in mid-air.

"Did I hit it?" he asked hesitantly.

"You hit the door," Dean said flatly.

Adam couldn't help the rush of air that left him in disappointment. He was supposed to be good at this. This was the only thing left to be good at. He dropped his arms and let gun hang at his side.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean asked, now slightly annoyed, "Go again."

After three clips Adam was starting to improve, although he still had to remind himself not to close his eyes when he pulled the trigger.

"That was better, huh, Dean?" he asked after the last round.

Dean just grunted in return, crouching down to the duffel to grab another box of ammunition.

Adam knew that last one was better. He was hitting the target now, most of the time anyway, and he hadn't had a bullet go wild in this clip at all. Maybe he was gonna be the best shot in the family, after all, he thought to himself. He eyed the barn door, staring down the bulls-eye and feeling pretty good about his chances of hitting it dead on in the next round. He absently began to twirl the handgun on his finger, feeling more and more like bad-ass. Shooting was kinda like it was in the old westerns, quick draw and all.

Suddenly the gun was yanked from his hand, twisting his wrist painfully and he got a hard cuff to the side of the head that made him briefly see stars.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Dean yelled suddenly angry.

Adam blinked hard and his eyes focused to find his angry older brother standing over him, ready to smack him again.

"Are you stupid?!" he shouted, "Every gun is loaded! You never play with a weapon!"

Adam rubbed his head gingerly and shrank back a little despite himself. He knew that. If Dean said it once, Dad must have said it a hundred times 'Always treat a gun like it's loaded. Never point a gun at anything you don't intend to shoot,' Adam felt the shame creep up and redden his face as he looked away from his brother.

"We're done here," Dean said forcefully. He checked the clip in the gun and clicked on the safety before tucking it back into the back of his jeans all in one well-practiced motion that made Adam sick with jealousy.

"Get the bag," Dean said, striding away from Adam without a backward glance.

Adam roughly grabbed the duffel off the ground and slung it over his shoulder and sulked back to the car behind his brother. 'Fuck,' he thought to himself. One small mistake and Dean called off practice. Adam was never gonna learn at this pace. How was he ever gonna be the best if he never got to train? Ugh. He kicked himself again as he threw the duffel in the trunk and climbed in the passenger side.

"Dumb-ass," Dean growled at him as he got in.

Dean brought the car to life with a roar and they sped down the dirt country road back to the crappy motel of the week. Adam silently looked out the window, angry with himself and becoming even angrier that Dean would call off training just like that. One little mistake and it wasn't even like the gun was loaded.

"That was fast. How'd it go?" Sam asked when they returned to the motel.

"Ask John Wayne," Dean said, scowling at Adam.

Adam rolled his eyes and went to sit with Sam at the tiny motel table where his brother was studying.

"Dean called it quits, cause I messed up one time," Adam said, imploring his older brother to understand. Sam was always the most sympathetic person in the family and Adam knew he could count on Sam to take his side to convince Dean that he was overreacting.

"Messed up?!" Dean shouted from across the room "You were slinging the damn gun around like it was high noon!"

Adam turned around to glare at his older brother "It wasn't even loaded!" he shouted back, "We spent all the rounds!"

Adam turned back around to Sam expecting to find sympathy but instead found a hard frown on his brother's face.

"Guns aren't toys Adam," Sam said seriously. "You know that. Always treat them like they're loaded."

Adam groaned and rolled his eyes again. "Ugh! I know!" he said, "I messed up! But it wasn't that big of a deal! We didn't have to come back!"

Adam watched as Sam looked over his head at Dean and he felt them exchange looks.

"Get up," Dean said coming to stand at the table where his two brothers sat.

Adam just looked at him, confused. Then over at Sam who was watching quietly.

"What?" Adam asked.

"Get up." Dean repeated, grabbing Adam's upper arm and hefting him out of the chair "You're going on a run."

"What? Why? I already ran today!" Adam protested.

"You fucked up and now you're gonna run so you can remember not to do it again." Dean said lightly shoving Adam toward his own duffel on the motel bed "And not to be such a little dick about it."

Adam glared at his older brother and huffed. All this over one little daydream.

"Get changed, Adam. Let's go." Dean said with finality.

Adam looked over at Sam for help, waiting for his brother to step in and tell Dean off. But Sam didn't move; only watched expectantly for Adam to follow Dean's orders. And Adam knew he had to follow orders. Dad had made it clear that Dean was commanding officer when he wasn't around and there would be hell to pay if Sam and Adam didn't fall into line.

Adam huffed again, grabbing his bag and storming into the tiny motel bathroom to get changed.

A few moments later he was changed and slamming the door of the motel room on his way out to run the three miles that Dean demanded. He knew he was gonna be exhausted when he was finished, his punishment making it a total of six miles for the day, which he'd never done before.

He managed to spend the entire run seething about the afternoon and by the time he got back he was even angrier and more exhausted than he thought possible. Dean was gone when he returned to the room and Sam had moved from the tiny table over to one of the motel room beds to spread out his research and books.

Adam flopped down on the corner of the motel bed Sam was occupying, the only spot not covered in open books and random papers.

"Dude, go shower. You stink," he said, barely looking up from his work.

Adam huffed "Yeah well you would too if you ran six miles today."

Sam just grinned and shook his head in response, "Please, you got off easy. You're lucky it was Dean, Dad would have whipped your ass for that stunt."

That shut Adam up damn quick. He hadn't even considered that he'd never gotten a whipping before and really didn't want to consider it to be a possibility. Instead, he pushed himself off the bed and grabbed his bag to get a shower, determined that whenever Dean returned for the evening Adam was gonna ignore him.

The next week with Dean was spent studying knives again, but at least it was throwing knives and it took another week after that before Dean relented and took Adam back out to the shooting range to practice again. Adam was determined this time however and kept his focus, being mindful of the position of the gun, the bullets in the chamber and the position of the safety lock.

It took time but Adam's aim did improve, so much so that Dean even mentioned it to their father when he and John took on a hunt a few weeks later.

"Adam," John said, causing his youngest to look up from the book of lore Sam had set him on "Grab your coat, let's get in some shooting practice."

"Just me?" Adam asked hopefully. He very rarely got to spend any time alone with his father, except on long car rides and almost never got to train alone with him. He was eager to show off how good he had gotten.

"Yeah," John said simply, grabbing his own coat off the back of the kitchenette chair.

Dean threw Adam a nod of approval and Sam gave him an encouraging half-smile as he ran by, hot on his father's heels.

Adam couldn't wait to show his dad how good his aim had gotten. Before coming to live with him, Adam had never even touched a gun and now he could hit the bulls-eye on a target 15 feet away 9 out of 10 times, and Dean was gradually moving the target further and further away as well as changing up the firearm he gave Adam to shoot with.

They stopped in another far away field and Adam watched as his father set some empty cans on a wide fence about 20 feet away. He eyed the cans nervously. They seemed to be much smaller targets than the big bulls-eye Dean had given him to practice on for the last few weeks, and they were further away too. Adam shook his head, clearing away the intrusive thoughts and set his jaw in determination. He reminded himself just how well he'd been doing yesterday with Dean and how proud he felt when he hit the target dead center. Dad was gonna be proud too, just wait.

Adam watched as his Dad checked the clip and the safety of his handgun in the exact same way he had watched Dean do it before he handed the gun over to Adam.

Adam took the gun from his father and fought to stamp down the butterflies that had appeared in his stomach. His heart thudded in his chest and he had to take a deep breath to relax enough to focus on the cans Dad had placed on the fence.

Carefully aiming and preparing himself for the recoil Adam popped off three shots rapid fire, nailing all three of the cans on the fence.

"Yes!" he shouted, jumping into the air pointing the gun skyward. "Oh yeah!" he sang excitedly, taking the gun and blowing off the barrel like he'd seen in the movies, before twirling it by the trigger and tucking in his invisible holster.

Adam couldn't believe his luck- skill that is. He was completely ecstatic that he had hit all the cans on the first try and in front of his father!

He turned around ready to find a wide grin and some big congratulations from his dad but instead found the gun unceremoniously yanked from his hand and a deep scowl etched on his father's face.

"Are you stupid?!" His father asked, grabbing Adam's upper arm and shaking him.

"I ... uh..." Adam was shocked and unprepared for his father's response.

"This is a loaded weapon!" John said, motioning to the safety on the gun with his thumb.

Adam felt the bottom drop out of his stomach at the realization of what he had done. It was one thing to make the mistake of playing with the gun in front of Dean, but it was quite another to make it in front of Dad. Adam knew how seriously his father took weapons training. No part of this lifestyle was a game for him and he expected his sons to treat it with the same amount of respect.

His father's grip on his arm tightened and Adam found himself being dragged back to his father's truck. He was soon shoved up against the lowered tailgate. Adam watched as his father quickly began taking off his belt, unbuckling it and pulling the leather through the loops of his jeans. Adam felt himself break out in a cold sweat as his stomach clenched in fear. He'd heard Sam get a whipping from their father, but he'd never felt the leather on his own backside. His mother had never even spanked him as a little kid and now at almost 13 he was gonna get it for the first time with his dad's belt. Adam's breath began to hitch even before his father touched him.

He watched as his dad folded the belt over, tucking the buckle into his fist before grabbing Adam's shoulder to turn him around and bend him over the tailgate. The moment his face his hit the metal of the truck he heard the sound he didn't know he never wanted to hear: the whistle of leather through the air and the subsequent crack of it as it slammed into his backside.

Adam gasped and choked as pain bloomed red hot. He involuntarily bucked and fought to get away, but his father's hand on the middle of his back pushed him down hard against the truck. The sound of the belt screeched again and Adam hissed and sobbed as the leather came down upon him. He arched again, wildly moving his hands to try to cover himself and soothe the white-hot pain. He heard his dad grunt angrily and felt both his wrists being yanked into his father's strong grip and pushed tightly against the small of his back. By the fifth blow, Adam was begging his father to stop, tears streaming down his face. By the tenth blow, he was sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe, let alone get any words out. At the twelfth strike, the beating stopped abruptly and Adam felt his father release his hands from his back. Adam collapsed onto the dirt, his ears ringing, choking on sobs. He looked up and watched his father put back on his belt, slowly sliding the leather back through the loops of his jeans while taking deep ragged breaths.

"I don't ever wanna see you treat a weapon like that," he said staring down at Adam, "You understand me?"

Adam could only nod in response, his breath hitching, tears still uncontrollably running down his face.

"Do you understand me?" his father repeated.

"Ye-Yes sir," Adam choked out.

"Get up. Get in the truck."

Adam fought to get a deep breath, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose and wiping his eyes. His entire backside was on fire. He wasn't sure he could walk, but the dangerous look he found in his father's eyes told him he better find a way. Adam weakly stood up and hobbled his way to the cab of the truck, feeling like his backside and legs had been shredded by the leather of the belt. He gingerly climbed into the cab, still trying to get his breathing under control and not let anything touch him.

The ride back to the motel was the most uncomfortable 20 minutes of Adam's entire life. Not only had his father not spoken a single word to him, but Adam was forced to sit on the worst pain he'd endured in his life so far. Adam wanted to be mad at his father but he was too upset, too shocked at where the day had taken them. He felt he was still wrapping his mind around the fact that his father had laid him out in the middle of a field and beaten him to what felt like an inch of his life.

Back at the motel, Adam once again climbed gingerly out of the truck, his father waiting for him at the door. Adam felt hard fingers grip the back of his neck as he was pushed into the room.

"Hey..." Dean started as he saw them come in, but the words died on his tongue when he saw Adam's face.

"Adam, go get cleaned up son." his father said, gently pushing Adam toward to the tiny motel bathroom.

"Dean." His father called, "Front and center."

Adam watched from his peripheral as Dean jumped up and went to stand in front of their father.

"Have you been doing weapons safety training with your brother?"

"Yes sir," Dean replied immediately.

"Not enough apparently. Boy seems to think he's in a movie, tossing his weapon around like he thinks he's damn action hero,"

Adam could practically feel Dean's anger rise from across the room, and hung his head in shame.

"I'm sorry sir..." Dean started

"Adam's training is your responsibility, Dean. As much as I want to be here all the time to teach him I can't be. I need to know that I can rely on you." Dad said seriously, cutting off Dean's apology. "Respect for firearms is part of that training. Something I assumed you'd know by now." He added with disapproval.

"Of course, Dad. I do. Like I said we've been…"

"You let your brothers get away with too much Dean. Hunting is serious business. Life or Death" Dad said cutting Dean off again. "Not only that but Adam is surrounded by firearms even in this motel room. If he doesn't know how to act around them safely he could kill himself or you or Sam! Is that what you want Dean?"

"No sir." Adam could hear Dean reply through gritted teeth.

"You'll do safety training with him every day, twice a day, for the next two weeks, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Dean, if he does it again I'm taking it out of your ass," his father threatened.

"Yes sir," Dean replied again a little quieter than before.

Dad then turned his attention to Sam calling out for the latest update on his research with the potential case in Springdale. Adam had drug himself to the bathroom and just as he was about to close the door behind him, a hand caught the door roughly and Dean slipped in, quietly closing them both in the tiny room.

"What the hell!?" Dean questioned in a barely contained growl of a whisper, leaning down to his younger brother.

Adam couldn't bring himself to look Dean in the eye. He was so ashamed and so disappointed. Dad didn't even care that Adam had hit all the targets straight off, his one careless move overshadowed all the work he had put in.

"Nothing? You got nothing to say?" Dean whispered fiercely.

Adam couldn't hold in the quiver of his bottom lip, and squeezed his eyes closed tightly, "Just leave me alone." he said, his voice thick and uneven.

"You're an idiot! You know that?" Dean whispered hotly in Adam's face before slipping out of the bathroom.

Finally, alone, Adam let himself relax, sinking down to the dingy motel bathroom floor and trying to keep his sobs as quiet as possible. It seemed every day since his mom's death had been miserable, but this one was the worst so far.

When Adam came out of the bathroom sometime later both Dad and Sam were gone and Dean was slouched on the motel room couch flipping channels on the crappy tv.

"Where's Dad and Sam?" Adam asked quietly.

"Library," came the gruff reply.

Of course. More research.

"You didn't have to stay," Adam said to Dean's back, annoyed that his older brother was so mad at him

"Didn't have a choice," Dean said without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Oh."

Adam looked around the small room, he wasn't sure what to do with himself now. The last thing he wanted to do was sit and watch tv with Dean, but there was no food in the room and really nothing else to do.

He walked over to the door deciding finally to at least sit outside and get some fresh air and get away from Dean's anger.

As soon as his hand touched the doorknob he heard a stern "No." from the other side of the room.

Dean had still not looked away from the television, but Adam knew he was watching his younger brother, waiting to see how far Adam might push him.

"I'm just going outside," Adam said trying to keep the pleading from his voice

"No. You're not." Came the quick reply.

Adam huffed. He turned back into the room and went and to lie on Sam's bed, sliding the still open books over as he lay down on his stomach. He was sore, tired, embarrassed and miserable. He buried his face in Sam's pillow, biting his lip to keep fresh tears from falling. Before long Adam fell asleep, comforting himself with the memory of the cans bouncing off the fence as each bullet nailed them dead center and an imagined look of pride on his father's face.


	8. Ready to Hunt

"Why can't I go, dad?" Adam pleaded for the third time that morning, following his Dad around as he and the older boys prepared to leave.

"I can't take all three of you boys, Adam, too many variables," John said, not looking at his son while he shuffled through his notes and research on the poltergeist they were headed out to take care of.

"But Sam doesn't even want to go!" Adam said, trying hard to keep the whine from his voice.

Adam was more than ready for his first hunt. He had been training for months. Since the moment Dad told him about the monsters that murdered his mother, Adam was ready to hunt, ready to get his revenge. But after nearly seven months Dad still wasn't convinced that Adam was ready, although he hadn't come right out and said it yet.

At the mention of his name, Sam looked up at the conversation from his place on the motel bed. He opened his mouth to agree with Adam, but a stern glare from their older brother Dean, who was packing weapons beside him, snapped his mouth shut. Sam set his jaw and forced himself to stay quiet even though he could feel the deep rage of unfairness burning in his chest.

"I don't care what Sam wants, Adam. It's important he learns this stuff. Your time will come." Dad said, brushing him off.

Adam huffed, clearly not happy with his father's answer. He sat on the bed dejectedly.

Seeing the sad lost look on his little brother's face broke Sam's resolve to stay quiet.

"Dad, you could take Adam. I've got an English essay due anyway and this would be a great experience for him." Sam said evenly, trying to make his point calmly.

Dean shook his head in disbelief but didn't pause in his packing. Adam stood again, emboldened by his older brother's support.

At his son's comment John frozen in his shuffling of papers, turning slightly to acknowledge his middle son.

"Sam, this is not a discussion," he said firmly.

"Dad! I really want to learn! I could help! I'm ready!" Adam pleaded once more, "And Sam could get his homework done! I don't even have any!"

"Enough!" John said, slamming a fist down on the rickety motel room table causing all three boys to jump at the sound. "Sam goes. Adam stays. Not another word about it or I'm taking off my belt," John said, eyeing his younger sons.

Sam clenched his jaw with a scowl. Leave it to John Winchester to threaten violence to keep his boys in line. No explanations, only a do as I say or else.

"Get your bag, Sam." John said tossing on his coat, "Dean get the car loaded. Adam-" he said, walking over to where the youngest boy was sitting sadly on the motel bed. "The room is paid up till next week, there is cash in your bag for food. We will be gone 3 or 4 days at the most. I'm trusting you to take care of yourself while we are gone."

"I know Dad," Adam said quietly, still hurt that he couldn't go along.

John sat down next to Adam on the bed and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, "You'll be ready to fight with us soon enough Adam. Today just isn't that day, but while we're gone study your Latin and do your schoolwork ok? And don't forget to salt the door after we leave,"

"I won't Dad," came a soft reply.

John stood up then, leaving Adam pouting. He was happy to have another son interested in the "family business" and thankful he didn't have to deal with another Sam who questioned and fought him on every hunt. Sam's defiance when it came to hunting was getting more difficult to deal with as he got older and John only hoped that Sam's bad attitude wouldn't rub off on Adam and dampen his enthusiasm.

John gave Adam a consolatory pat on the shoulder and stood up to walk out the door just as Dean was coming back in.

"Ready," Dean said.

"Sam." John said, addressing his sullen middle son "Get the lead out,"

Sam sighed deeply causing John's blood pressure to rise, but stood up to leave, ruffling Adam's hair as he did so, "See ya later kid."

As the door of the room closed Adam flopped back on the bed, laying down and taking a shaky breath attempting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

He did really want to go on the hunt, but more than anything he didn't want to be left alone. When he was alone the nightmares were so much worse and he could never shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen to him. 'Three days'. He told himself. 'Three days. You can do it.'


	9. The First Hunt

_Timeline- Adam just turned 13 and experiences his first hunt with John Winchester._

Dean stood up from the motel bed again, aimlessly moving toward the kitchenette in the room stopping short to glance out the window.

Behind him Sam sighed and chuckled "Dude, you'd hear the Impala from a mile away," he said.

Dean ignored his brother in favor of searching the small kitchen area looking for something to eat or better, something to drink. He'd been against Dad taking Adam out hunting from the start and since they'd left four days ago he'd thought about little else.

Adam had only been with his father and half-brothers for a little over eight months since his mother died. Dean and Sam had worked hard at training their younger brother - per their father's orders, but Dean knew the kid wasn't ready. He'd just turned 13 for Christ's sake. He knew that both he and Sam had been hunting almost regularly at that age but they had been training their entire lives for this job. This time last year Adam was a 7th grader only worried about grades and girls. When Sam was his age he was already a crack shot with any gun or rifle and a mean son of a bitch when it came to hand to hand combat. It never failed to impress Dean just how vicious his brother could be when it came down to it. You'd never know to look at Sam but under those sweet puppy dog eyes, there was a fire and wrath that burned pretty damn hot. Dean feared Adam didn't have that same anger or whatever it was that made Sam fight with every molecule of himself. There was never a chance Sam would go down without bringing his opponent down with him. Adam? Dean didn't know. Granted he'd only known the kid for eight months. Just another reason he shouldn't be out hunting. Only eight months of knowing the true depths of evil in the world? Dean didn't think it was nearly enough time to process. In fact, he knew it wasn't. The poor kid had only recently stopped having nightmares about the beasts that killed his mother. If Dad were thinking he'd have waited to take Adam out. It didn't matter that this job was only a "milk run" an easy poltergeist that hadn't even killed anyone yet, although from their research both Sam and Dean knew it was headed that way.

John was just too anxious to get Adam started in the family business, trained up and ready to protect himself. Adam was all too happy to go along, after seeing what happened to his mother he was ready to kill and dismember every evil S.O.B he could get his hands on. He threw himself headlong into the Winchester training regiment, never complaining even though it was clear to both his older brothers the toll it was taking on him. Dean thought that it was maybe more than just revenge that fueled his youngest brother. He knew the look. He knew it well. That deep unfulfilled need for their father's approval and praise. Dean knew the look could be found plastered on his own face from time to time when he didn't have the presence of mind to hide it. Dean wanted Adam to hunt, he understood John's insistence, but every piece of him couldn't help but wish his father had waited longer.

Opening and closing the two empty cabinets above the tiny sink Dean couldn't stifle his restlessness any longer. He was gonna have to get out. Hit the bar or a burger joint or something to get his mind off his brother and his first hunt.

He was just about to grab his coat off the back of the tiny motel room chair when he heard the distant rumble of the Impala's engine. He'd know that sound anywhere, 20 miles off even. That car was his baby, the only thing his father ever listened to him about, the only thing that John Winchester ever admitted that Dean might know a little more about. It was a hard-won battle and Dean kept that car in peak condition not only because he loved the machinery of it, but also to protect the edge of knowledge he had earned.

After a few moments, Sam's head lifted too, hearing the familiar sound. Dean knew that Sam was just as worried about Adam. He hadn't said much since Adam and John had left but the few snarky sidelong comments he had let slip made it clear that Sam was seething that their father would take such an unprepared kid out on a hunt, no matter how "not even dangerous " John deemed it to be.

Dean tried to play it cool, burying the instinct to run out to the car and pull his brother out to inspect for injury. Instead, he moved to sit back on the motel bed across from Sam where his weapons were already spread in a state of half clean. Sam hid a smile at the movement, to which Dean gave him a glare, but before either could say a word the door of the motel opened.

Dean stood without realizing it and watched his father march into the room, tossing his worn dirty duffle under the table in the kitchenette. Dean instantly scanned his father for injuries, an effort of habit more than anything. John was dusty, dirty and had a swath of dried blood on his neck. Dean knew from his father's stride that the blood was not his own and hoped that some supernatural beast had met a dark and bloody end by the hand of John Winchester.

Straining to look around their father without appearing too obvious Dean caught sight of his youngest brother, shuffling slowly into the room. Adam too was dirty and dusty, with a pristine white bandage on his forehead near his hairline, dried blood around it clearly his own. The kid trudged in; eyes on the floor, exhaustion following him like a shadow.

The two older Winchester boys hurried over to Adam and Dean suddenly didn't care if his father saw the unbridled concern written on his face.

"How was it?" Dean asked, eyeing the bandage on Adam's forehead.

"What happened!?" Sam demanded.

"Relax boys," John said dismissively. "Your brother is fine, just a fall."

Adam was quiet between them. He could feel both his brothers examining him closely looking for other injuries or signs that what John said about the hunt wasn't true. Adam had no words for them, however. He was fine. Mostly. The hunt was fine. Mostly.

Dean took hold of Adam's chin gently, forcing him to look up and into the worried eyes of his oldest brother. Adam knew that Dean wouldn't openly contradict their father's declaration that Adam was "fine" but he could feel that Dean needed more. Dean wanted to see for himself, from Adam, that he was ok. Adam tried to give Dean the reassurance that his brother desperately wanted, but he couldn't quite complete the half smile he forced on his lips. He felt too tired, still too scared and scarred by what happened.

Even after months of preparing for this hunt, it turned out Adam was not ready. At least not as ready as he thought he was. Adam wasn't sure he would ever have been ready. He was beginning to wonder if he should even be a hunter. As much as he wanted revenge on the things that murdered his mother, this hunt it was…it was just too much.

"Sam, why don't you help Adam get cleaned up?" Dean said, taking his hand from Adam's chin and resting it comfortably on the boy's young head, absentmindedly stroking his younger brother's hair.

Adam could feel a weighted look pass between his brothers, but unlike most of times he felt it happen he was too drained to wonder what was unsaid.

Sam gently took Adam's arm and led him toward the motel room bathroom, easily grabbing Adam's duffle off the floor without pausing in his stride.

Dean watched them go and once the door closed he turned on his father.

"So?" he asked, trying to hold onto the thin edge of respectfulness in his tone, "What happened?"

John had been busying himself in the kitchenette, washing his hands and face and was now scouring the cabinets for any type of alcohol to take the edge off, as was his habit after a hunt.

"He did good Dean," John replied, not turning to face his son as he found a glass and begin to look in earnest for the liquor he needed to fill it. "He got tossed down some stairs by the damn ghost, but he took it like a champ. Probably gonna feel it tomorrow though,"

"What!" Dean hissed, unable to hide his irritation that his father would let Adam get hurt in any way, "How did it even get close to him?"

John turned slowly, feeling the tingle of anger and shame beginning to rise within him. Dean wasn't the son he expected to get this interrogation from which made him feel even more ashamed of his failure.

"Spirits are unpredictable, son. You know that." John deflected expertly.

Dean knew that, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from holding John accountable for every scratch and bruise that Adam suffered. John knew, however, that Dean couldn't be any angrier at him than he already was with himself.

John had convinced himself that Adam was ready for his first hunt. He'd been with his new family for a while now and by all regards was becoming an excellent hunter. He had all the fiery rage of revenge that John had early in his hunting career and enough of the Winchester brand of stubbornness and drive that he'd picked up the training and lore relatively quickly. John had ignored Dean's concerned pleas to let Adam train longer and Sam's insolent remarks about John's own hurried desire for Adam's first hunt. He had ignored them because he needed the boy to be ready. The overwhelming urge to ensure that Adam could protect himself, could fight against the evil in the world and survive, blinded John to reality.

The reality was that the kid  _did_  do very well. He was valiant in the face of his first ghost, despite clearly being terrified beyond measure. He followed orders to the letter, handled his weapon with expert care and never complained about the pain he endured at the hands of the evil spirit. John was proud of the boy. He couldn't remember clearly if he had said it aloud after the hunt, since he was too worried about staunching the flow of blood from Adam's head, but he was proud.

"Dad…" Dean started behind him.

"Dean, he's fine," John said abruptly, unable to face the embarrassment that his eldest son was right.

Because despite the fact that Adam did exactly as he was expected to when the ghost appeared before them John had undoubtedly seen an unnatural look of fear and distress pass over his son's face and he instantly regretted pushing him into the hunt.

"There's nothing here." John declared, putting an empty glass back in the cabinet. "I'm gonna go on a supply run."

Dean knew "a supply run" was Dad code for finding a liquor store or a bar that his father could hole up in, but he didn't say anything. Only giving a cursory, "Yes sir," when he was told, as always, to look after the boys.

Dean had to grit his teeth and fight the urge to punch the wall as he watched his father's hurried exit. His father's need to hit the bar told him all he needed to know about how well Adam's first hunt really had gone. Why couldn't Dad have listened, just this once? Dean ran a hand roughly through his hair, worrying again.

At that moment the bathroom door opened and Sam led Adam out. The younger boy was cleaned up, but still listless, easily letting himself be led to the motel room bed.

A quick look at Sam told Dean that Adam hadn't spoken while Sam was cleaning him up and it was killing Sam not to know what happened during the hunt. It was killing Dean too. Anytime his brothers were in pain Dean's heart gave a visceral twist that sent shock waves of agony throughout his body. Dean had to find out what happened. He had to fix it.

"So," Dean said forcing on a light tone, "How'd you like your first Casper?"

Adam sat down heavily on the bed, not looking either brother in the eye and gave a shrug, "It was fine," he mumbled.

"Fine?" Dean said, "Did you get to gank the son of a bitch? Feels good huh?" he asked, keeping his tone jovial. Based on his own experience Dean knew the more he could joke about anything the easier it was to deal with.

Normally Adam would play along, making light of everything with Dean. Any injury in training, any unexpected move or depressing event in the Winchester life was cause for a joke or sarcastic remark. Dean was getting impressed at some of the quick-witted digs that Adam was beginning to come up with. It was fun to have a brother who would humor him in trying to lighten the mood; Sam was never on board for that kind of coping. He was always too in his head about everything, never able to just let shit go. Adam was at least willing to put on a good front and try to ignore some of the misery in their lives.

Not this time though. As much as he wanted to calm his brother's fears and play along with Dean, Adam couldn't muster the energy.

"I think I'm just gonna go to sleep," Adam said, scooting himself up the bed and under the blankets.

"You sure Adam?" Sam asked, "Have you even had dinner?"

"No, but its ok," Adam mumbled, bringing the blankets up around his ears and turning his face into the pillow. "It was fine really. I'm just really tired."

Adam knew that his brothers were again exchanging their worried looks. He could feel the tension between them in the room. He just couldn't deal with them now. He just needed to sleep. Needed to not think about the hunt for a while and then it would be fine. It went fine. Hunting was fine. Everything would be fine.

Neither Sam nor Dean moved from the side of the bed and silently watched as Adam fell asleep. And once their younger brother was asleep neither knew what to do with themselves.

Sam looked at Dean for direction and Dean was only able to give him a shrug in return. Adam could be a hard kid to read and although Dean knew he wasn't fully trained and ready to hunt, this sullen silence was not the outcome he had expected. Dean supposed he'd expected Adam to either come home totally excited and in love with hunting like he was or scared out of his wits and totally against it like Sam was. Right now it looked like Adam was neither.

Dean sat back down on the bed across from Adam, picking up his rifle and absently running his hand along the dark wooden handle. He watched as Sam carefully moved his books over and sat down next to Adam, scrutinizing their younger brother for any signs of distress.

They sat silently for a long time, each brother lost in his own world until Dean heard a small whimper come from the bed next to him.

He instantly looked over to his brothers, already on high alert. Adam was still asleep, hair tousled across the bandage on his forehead and blankets tucked up under his chin. Sam was asleep now too, slightly propped up against the headboard of the motel bed, his own head lolling on his chest with one hand on the open book in his lap and the other on his younger brother's back.

As he watched his younger brothers sleep Dean thought that maybe he had imagined the sound. Adam's nightmares usually came out in a blood-curdling scream that would jolt both older brothers from their beds instantly, usually armed. Placing the knife he had been sharpening down on the nightstand between the beds Dean leaned in a little closer to watch.

Adam shifted slightly in his sleep, a small frown creasing his brow. Now Dean was on standby, ready to wake Adam if the nightmare took hold, or let him sleep if he was able to get free. As Dean continued to watch his little brother he felt himself breathe a sigh of relief when Adam's forehead finally smoothed into a calm slumber.

Dean turned back to his weapons running a weary hand over his eyes, wondering what time Dad would come stumbling back in. Deciding to go ahead and clean up for the night he sat down again to put away all the weapons he had been half-heartedly cleaning and organizing all night.

As he put away his last set of witch killing bullets, he heard Adam whimper again from behind him. He turned to find his brother grimacing in his sleep, sweat shimmering on his forehead; eyes scrunched shut and jaw clenched. Dean kicked himself for getting distracted from the most important task he had. Adam's nightmare had clearly started and Dean knew the only hope of freeing his brother from the terror in his mind was to wake him as gradually as possible.

Leaning over his littlest brother, Dean gently touched Adam's arm "Adam?" he said softly, trying to wake him slowly and calmly.

Dean moved to brush some of the hair off his brother's sweaty forehead and as his hand touched Adam's hair, Adam's eyes burst open wildly. Suddenly Adam screamed and threw a wild, powerful punch catching Dean off guard and hitting him in the left ear so hard he saw stars.

Using the hand that had been resting on Adam's arm, Dean now gripped his brother and tried to get a hold of his other arm, causing Adam to thrash, fight and scream for everything he was worth.

"Adam! Stop!" Sam yelled, waking up instantly to the sound of the struggle and jumping right in to help Dean.

"Adam! Wake up kid!" Dean grunted, trying again to get a grip on Adam's right arm without hurting him, although the kid was whipping around at lightning speeds, smacking Dean painfully in the face and arms.

Suddenly Dean caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eye and immediately used all his strength to pin his younger brother's arm above his head.

"Sam!" Dean yelled nodding down to the newly sharpened hunting knife clenched tightly in Adam's fist. "Grab the fucking knife!"

"Adam. Come on Adam. Let go," Sam coached, working to pry Adam's fingers loose from the death grip he had on the blade.

"Ok, ok. I got it, Dean, let off him." Sam said, finally getting the knife and tossing it on the floor away from his brothers.

Dean slowly let Adam's arms go and the moment he was free Adam scrambled up to the headboard pushing his back against it as hard as he could as if it could ground him. He looked between his brothers, blinking rapidly trying to clear the dream and bring himself back to reality.

"What the hell kid?!" Dean said, looking at him incredulously.

Adam didn't respond and it was then Dean noticed that his brother was nearly hyperventilating, his chest rising and falling rapidly in an uneven pace.

"Calm down kid," Dean said, realizing too late that the statement came out as more of a John Winchester order then he meant it to.

"Adam?" Sam tried again, more gently.

Sam reached out to put his hand on Adam's shoulder, but Adam pulled away from the touch.

"Ok. Ok." Sam said, "Just breathe alright? You gotta calm down."

"Adam, seriously chill out." Dean reiterated.

Adam clenched and unclenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath. In through the nose, count to three, out through the mouth, as Sam had once told him.

Adam continued to breathe and tried to ignore his brother's intense stares until he felt his pulse slow to a more normal rate.

"Ok now?" Dean asked, noticing Adam's calm returning.

Adam nodded and swallowed hard. He'd had plenty of nightmares before, horrible ones, but none quite as disturbing as this one. He couldn't remember details but the feelings of it lingered, overwhelming him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam asked.

Adam didn't respond and instead scooted himself down into the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I'll be fine." He murmured.

"Fine?" Dean asked, "Dude, you almost stabbed me with my own knife!"

Adam frowned, "Sorry."

Seeing the look on his brother's face Dean immediately felt guilty, "No… kid... it's fine. Look just... um... relax ok? Everything is fine. It was just a dream."

"I know that." Adam snarled back at him, "I'm not an idiot."

Adam watched as Dean gave Sam a look, which irritated and infuriated him.

"Stop it" he yelled, "Quit looking at me like that!"

Adam threw back the blankets and jolted from the bed pushing past Dean.

"Kid, calm down," Dean said gently, taking a small step toward where Adam stood in the middle of the motel room.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Adam yelled again "I'm not a mental patient you need to talk down! I'm fine! It was just a stupid dream!"

At this point, Sam stood up from the bed, "Adam. It's ok. It  _was_  just a dream. And we're just trying to help."

"Well stop it!" Adam screamed, "Stop looking at me like I'm gonna break! Like there is something wrong with me! I'm fine! It was a stupid hunt and a stupid dream! I'm fine!"

"Alright fine," Dean barked, his patience fraying, "Then calm the hell down!"

"OK!" Adam yelled back, now panting and having to remind himself to breathe again.

The brothers were all silent, standing and staring at each other in the tiny motel room feeling the tension creep up the walls as they each waited to see who would make the first move.

"Fuck it." Dean said, breaking the standoff, "Sam, grab my bag. Adam, go sit down." he said motioning to the table, as he turned and walked into the kitchen area of the motel room.

Adam didn't move immediately and instead watched as Dean dug through the cabinets and came out with a coffee mug and two small glasses. He set them down on the counter and grabbed the duffle Sam handed him.

Sam sat down at the tiny table and noticed Adam still standing in the middle of the room. Sam threw his brother a gentle smile and a little nod toward the other chair at the table hoping he would accept the offer.

Adam hesitantly joined his brothers in the kitchen, watching as Dean dug around in his duffle and came out with a bottle of brown liquor.

"Don't either of you tell Dad I have this," he said holding up the bottle and eyeing them both.

"Yeah 'cause he'd steal it from you," Sam chuckled.

Dean gave his brother a half-hearted glare and opened the bottle pouring some of the liquid into each glass and his own mug.

"And you sure as hell better not tell him about this," he said, handing a glass to each brother.

Adam had to bite back a reluctant smile. There was no way he'd ever rat on his brothers about anything, but especially not something like this.

About halfway through his glass the heavy rock of fear and shock that had been lying in Adam's stomach had softened into a warm stone and he generally felt a lot better. He was beginning to understand why his dad drank all the time.

Adam watched his brothers intently, each lost in their own thoughts, most likely of worry for him, Adam realized. Dean was leaning casually against the counter in the kitchen, his mug gripped tightly enough in one hand to reveal just how strained the situation had made him. Sam was leaned over the kitchen table across from Adam, idly tracing the rim of his glass looking out the window.

"So I didn't know that ghosts could go through you," Adam piped up, letting the liquor make him bold enough to talk about the hunt.

Both older boys looked at him immediately.

"The ghost touched you?" Sam questioned, his concern clear.

Adam looked at Dean, trying to gauge if he should continue if having a ghost walk through you was normal or Winchester level normal anyway.

Dean's expression gave no indication, however, but a slight tilt of Dean's head let Adam know that he at least wanted to know more about what happened.

"Well," Adam started, looking down into his glass, "I don't know. It wasn't like she put her hand out and touched me. It was like she walked through me? Or like she was inside me?" he said, struggling to find the words to explain the strange experience.

"Yeah?" Dean urged.

Adam took another drink, hoping it would help ease the fear that was building again as he relived the moment.

"Dad was in front of me. We burned the bones. We were just going to check the house to be sure. But there was a girl there. Another ghost. She was different from the one were there to take care of…She wasn't bad- or maybe she was I don't know. But she came from behind us. Everything got so cold and when I turned to look behind me I saw her for just a second, but then…" Adam paused before continuing, "… I felt her. Like inside of me, in my chest and down my arms. This cold hard feeling, like I swallowed ice water or something but in my veins. But also I knew stuff, like about her." Adam said, rushing on before he got too scared or embarrassed to continue, "It was like memories, but not my memories, hers I guess. Of a little white cat, her parents… how she died…."

Adam trailed off, remembering all the things he had seen, the things the ghost had shown him.

"Adam, did you tell Dad this?" Sam asked, trying to get Adam to look him in the eye.

Adam shook his head, his eyes still firmly on his glass on the table. "It all happened really fast, she went through me or whatever and then she was gone."

Dean stood up suddenly and rushed over to his duffle of weapons near the motel bed, rummaging around inside it.

He quickly found whatever it was he was looking for and in one fluid motion yelled "Adam!" before lobbing a piece of iron rebar at his little brother to catch.

Adam knocked over his whiskey with the sudden movement but was able to easily catch the bar.

"Iron, Dean?" Sam asked, skeptically.

"Yeah," Dean said, striding back over and taking the bar from Adam. "Just wanted to make sure ol' Casper is out of there."

Adam looked confusedly at his older brothers. Surely they weren't saying what he thought they were.

"You think she could still be inside me?!" he yelped.

"No kid," Dean replied calmly, "You know how ghosts are about iron. You couldn't have caught that bar if she was,"

"Are you sure?" Adam asked worriedly. It was horrible enough to have lived through that ghost touching him, it was terrifying to think of the possibility that he wasn't rid of her.

"We can do some tequila shots if you want?" Dean suggested with a smile, "A little salt and lime chaser and no ghost will want you."

"Dean." Sam admonished with an eye roll.

"Seriously guys," Adam questioned, "What was that? You guys never mentioned that a ghost could do that."

Sam looked over at Dean, who tightened his jaw in response.

"We…uh… we've never seen it," Sam admitted. "I think what happened to you was a ghost possession, Adam. It's pretty rare."

Adam felt a little stunned at Sam's admission. Possessed. By a ghost.

Ugh.

"I've read about it before," Sam continued, "but the ones I've read about were pretty violent. The ghosts usually inhabited people and forced them to do their bidding, like getting revenge on the living, stuff like that."

"It doesn't sound like your ghost had any interest in that," Sam said.

Adam thought back to what the girl had shown him, what he felt and remembered.

"No. I don't think she was angry. She was scared. Really scared," he said.

"You said you saw her?" Dean asked, "What did her clothes look like? Maybe she hasn't been dead long enough to be vengeful."

Adam tried to think back, trying to picture the girl and what she was wearing, but couldn't. He couldn't see her, but he could still feel her memories inside him slowly fading.

"I don't remember her clothes, but in one of her memories, her mom or someone was on a computer so it probably wasn't that long ago," Adam replied.

"We're gonna have to go back," Dean said, walking over to the table and grabbing Adam's overturned glass.

"What? No!" Adam exclaimed before he realized he'd spoken.

"Relax kid, you don't have to go," Dean replied, refilling both Adam's and his own drink with more whiskey before handing it back to his brother.

Adam took the glass gratefully and stared into it.

"We need to tell Dad too," Dean continued, "Figure out who this girl was and help her move on before she becomes dangerous."

"No," Adam said forcefully, not looking up from his glass. "I don't wanna tell Dad."

"Why not?" Dean asked confusedly.

Adam grit his teeth and glared down into his whiskey, furiously hoping he wouldn't have to admit why he didn't want his father to know what had happened to him.

"It's ok Adam, we don't have to tell him," Sam assured him.

"Yes, we do Sam!" Dean said ardently, "He has to know what happened."

"No," Adam said again forcefully. "I saw how he looked at me after. If he knows a ghost got into me, he's gonna think I'm weak. That I can't hunt."

Adam looked at his brothers urging them to understand. Adam had watched his father's expressions closely after the hunt. All the time that Dad was bandaging his head and checking for broken ribs, Adam kept looking for a sign that he had done well, any acknowledgment that he had passed this first hunting test, but John's face was a mask void of any clear emotion. A silent ride back to the motel had only further solidified Adam's fear that Dad didn't think he'd done well enough on the hunt and wasn't ready for anything else.

"Adam…" Sam started.

"He's not gonna think you're weak." Dean interrupted, ever his father's defender. "Ghosts are unpredictable S. , it will be fine. He and I will go back and take care of it."

"No!" Adam exclaimed. "Dean seriously. Please."

Dean grunted in displeasure, trying to weigh the consequences of lying to his father against upsetting his brother.

"Adam," Sam said softly, drawing both his brother's attention, "We don't have to tell Dad everything, but we gotta tell him something. Dean's right. That ghost has to be taken care of, otherwise, she's just gonna become more violent as the years go on. It's the right thing to do."

"We'll tell Dad that you think you saw another ghost while you were canvassing, I'll do some research and figure out who she is and confirm your story. Then Dad and Dean can go back and take care of her," Sam continued. "Dad doesn't have to know about the possession ok?"

Adam chewed his bottom lip hesitantly as Dean huffed above him, clearly not happy with the plan and the possibility of lying, even by omission, to their father.

"Yeah…Ok," Adam said finally. "But I gotta go back there too."

Dean looked down at him in surprise, "You sure kid?"

"Yeah," Adam said firmly.

Despite the lingering feelings of fear and dread that were still sitting in his stomach Adam knew he had to go back. If he was ever going to have any hope of getting his vengeance and killing every ghoul that existed, he was gonna have to man up and face this ghost.

"Yeah," he said again, "Definitely."

Dean couldn't suppress the grin of pride that spread across his face.

"Yeah, alright," Dean said, clapping a heavy hand on Adam's shoulder. "And we won't let her get in you this time."

An involuntary shudder crossed Adam's shoulders and he tightened his grip on his whiskey glass, staring down into the amber liquid.

"You ready to try to get some sleep?" Sam asked.

Adam considered the suggestion for a moment, before deciding that the ghost's feelings were still too present and he wasn't ready to risk another nightmare. "Umm. No," he said finally, avoiding his brother's gaze. "I think I'll just stay up a little while."

"Ok, we'll hang with you," Dean said, walking over to the kitchen counter and grabbing the whiskey bottle by the neck and topping off his mug.

"You don't have to do that," Adam said, half hoping that his brothers would do what they always did and ignore him to do whatever they wanted.

"No man," Sam said, taking a drink of his own still mostly full glass, "We'll hang. Let's see what's on TV."

"Yeah!" Dean said, "I think this motel gets skin-a-max!"

Adam bit back a smile and took a hefty drink, letting the whiskey burn his throat and warm his stomach, pushing back the ghost's memories further and further from his consciousness with each sip.


	10. My Son's Eyes

At times it was difficult for John to even look at Adam.

He would find himself looking into to his youngest son's face and only seeing the shadow of his last love, not the boy himself. Sometimes Adam would turn his face just so or an expression would cross his features and all John could see was Kate. He saw her soft cheeks or her wise eyes or the wry smile that seemed to permanently live on her lips. Each time he would catch that momentary glimpse a new hole would be torn in his soul and he would struggle to try to keep himself from drowning in the feelings that threatened to overtake him.

It's not as though he wasn't used to seeing the remnants of his love written on his children's faces. There were so many, many times throughout the years that Dean would smile just like Mary or Sam would raise an eyebrow in her same skeptical way. Each time he caught a glimpse of Mary in his boys, John's heart would twist and his stomach would clench as he felt the pain of her loss as fresh as the first moment.

But it was different with Adam. John found himself taking great pains not to apologize to his son each time he recognized his mother in him. As if he could beg her for the forgiveness he knew he did not deserve. He wished he could plead with her to absolve himself of the endless guilt he felt when he looked at Adam.

Because if Kate Milligan had never met John Winchester…

When he  _could_  stand to look at the boy, John would comfort himself with the thought that Kate would want Adam to be safe and that training him in the way of the hunters would do just that. The boy was half Winchester after all and the supernatural evil of the world was bound to be drawn to him.

At those times when John had to look away, had to grit his teeth and stare hard at his papers or the road in front of him, he could offer himself no comfort. In those moments he could not rationalize away the thought that Adam was just a boy, a child, who by all rights should have grown up with his mother and had a normal life. John was wise enough to realize that no matter how much Mary had wanted it, no matter how much Sam wanted it now, there was likely no 'normal' life for Sam or Dean. John had never intended to be a hunter, but Mary was a hunter legacy and from what John knew of his own terrible Winchester luck, his older sons would never stand a chance of outrunning their destiny. It was all John could do now to prepare them for it.

At most John could hope that Adam never noticed the difficulty he sometimes had, but he often feared the boy was too much like his mother and saw right through him. Kate was always like that, able to walk through John's tried and true emotional defenses, able to see straight into the depth of him, whether John wanted her to or not. Kate was so young when they met, but John had often told her she had an old soul. She knew more about the world, more about people, then anyone her age should. And it was clear the more time that John spent with Adam that he had inherited this trait as well. There were times when John would look up to see Adam looking at him, in just that same way Kate had. It had been John's instinct to snap at her when she did this and true to her form she would just wryly smile at him and slowly look away, back to whatever it was she was doing. More than once John had snapped at Adam the same way when he found the boy staring. But unlike his mother, Adam wouldn't offer John an amused knowing smile, instead the 12-year-old would continue to stare, watching John carefully, quietly absorbing his father before slowly looking away. While Kate's stare had warmed him, Adam's unnerved him, like the boy was looking for answers to questions that he didn't yet have the courage to ask.

When John could quiet his mind, stop thinking about the next hunt or the past losses, he would look at each of his boys and let himself feel, if only briefly, the deep aching pain that looking into each of their faces would bring to him. He would clench his fists, bite his tongue and send a promise up to their mothers that he would do better and be better for them. John Winchester knew more than anyone that the road to hell was paved with more than good intentions.


	11. In these quiet times

_Timeline- This story takes place in the fall before Sam leaves for college (although no one in the family has found out yet.) Adam has just turned 13 and Sam is 17._

Adam sat idly at the expansive library table surrounded by dusty old books, each opened and waiting for him. His older brother sat across from him, glancing quickly at the books and quickly scratching notes from them into a worn notebook. Adam watched Sam work, knowing that he too should be taking notes to figure out the history of the ghost that Dad and Dean had come to town to hunt. He knew the importance of the hunt, the seriousness of the situation, but every time he looked down at the page he found that his vision blurred and his mind drifted off.

"Adam!" Sam hissed sharply.

Adam was startled back into himself as he looked at Sam to find his brother staring at him worriedly.

"Dude, you been spacing out all day. What's up?" Sam asked, concerned.

Adam shrugged and looked back down at the book of local ghost stories in front of him. Sam didn't push any further, but shook his head and went back to his own book and notes.

It wasn't until Adam could feel that Sam's eyes had left him, he felt the courage to answer.

"I've just been thinking about my mom," he said quietly, still not looking at his brother.

The silence between them was heavy for a moment before Sam responded, "Oh."

Adam knew that his mother's death was an awkward subject between him and his new family. He was smart enough to realize that he had probably been traumatized by the entire situation but didn't know if there was anything he could really do about it. Logically he realized he should use some of the time that he and Sam spent in various libraries to look up books on grief and trauma, but he never felt brave enough to even search for them in the card catalog. Adam figured that his Dad was supposed to have helped him somehow. Parents in tv shows were always talking to kids about their feelings and working stuff out. But over the year that Adam had spent with John Winchester and his two older sons, Adam had figured out that simply wasn't the way his own father worked. Dad didn't talk about Mary, his first wife and he never spoke about Adam's mom either. Any time that Adam tried to bring up his mom or his grief, he was met with a tight squeeze on the shoulder and a "You'll get through it son", which Adam felt didn't help at all. To be honest he didn't want to "get through it". Was there really anything to get through? It wasn't like it was going to go away, that one day this horrible reality would fade away and his mom would be back and he could go back to school and life and everything would be how it was.

Similar, his oldest brother Dean was no help either. Dean had been pretty damn hostile when they first met and although he was never purposely cruel to Adam, it had taken until just the past few months for him to warm up to his youngest brother. When Adam had finally tried to talk to Dean about his mom and this new life that he had been thrown into Dean couldn't really help. He didn't seem to understand Adam's feelings at all.

'Look, kid, this is the hand you were dealt and you just gotta take that and live with it and move on,' he had said.

To Dean life just happened. He had decided long ago to take every day and every moment as it came. He didn't focus on feelings and he encouraged Adam to do the same.

Adam wished he could do that. He wished he could brush off his feelings with a sarcastic quip and throw himself into whatever monster of the week his Dad had found for the family to hunt. Adam sometimes wondered if because he was raised by just his mom he was more 'in touch with his feelings' or whatever than his brothers were. He'd already seen how hard it was for their Dad to face emotional situations, and even Sam who was more willing to talk to Adam about his feelings still had a really hard time with it. Just another thing in the ever-growing list that made Adam feel like an outsider within his family.

Adam glanced up to see Sam staring at him sadly. He could feel that Sam wanted to help, but didn't know what to say. Part of him appreciated that Sam was at least willing to try to help him and tried to find the right thing to say, unlike Dad and Dean, but another part of him was angry that Sam couldn't help him.

Adam looked away from his brother, glancing over to the bookshelves behind him, deciding at that moment to push forward and let Sam in a little, hoping against hope that Sam would have something to say that could help him 'get through it' a little, at least for today.

"I've just been thinking of what my life would be like if my mom was here," Adam whispered, avoiding his brother's gaze.

"Oh…" Sam whispered in return. He was silent for a beat and Adam's heart clenched in his chest terrified that Sam would tell him to shut up and stop being such a girl.

"Man…" Sam started, then paused. "I'm so sorry, man," he said misery clear in his voice. He paused for a few awkward moments before trying to continue. "I…," he said, starting and stopping again, running a hand over his mouth and across his jaw, "I wish she was here too," he said finally.

Adam felt tears well up in his eyes and he bit the inside of his lip and held his breath trying to keep them from falling.

"I know this life sucks," Sam said continuing. "If it makes you feel any better I think about what life would be like if my mom was here too."

Adam risked losing his tight hold on his tears to look at his brother, sadness written across his young face. There was so little talk of Mary Winchester that Adam sometimes forgot that Sam and Dean had lost their mother too. He knew that Sam didn't consider the loss of his own mother to be as painful as Adam's, he'd said so when Adam had first come to them, but Adam realized that Sam still felt the same pain that Adam did even if it was rarely mentioned.

"I used to think about it a lot more when I was younger," Sam continued, now looking away from Adam and absently twisting his pencil in his hand. "I guess it got easier as I got older? I don't really know." He paused again, running a hand through his hair, clearly struggling.

"Dean used to tell me to shut up about it. He never wanted to think about mom like that, about what could have been. So I quit talking about it. But I'd still think about it. Would I be sharpening knives? Would I be tracking a werewolf or looking for patterns in crop failures and weather? Would I be here in this library looking up local legends?"

Sam took a deep breath before continuing, "Somewhere along the line, I realized that thinking about the 'what ifs' were only making me feel sadder, angrier at my life… and I'm already pretty angry about it," he said with a cynical smile.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't think about it," he said quickly, "but I had to stop. I don't know when it was, but I think…"

"I guess," he said measuring his words, "I think... I started to think about what I wanted my life to be, what I could make it…instead of thinking of what it could have been." Sam went quiet then and Adam felt his brother's eyes searching him for understanding.

"Yeah," Adam answered quietly, unsure of what response Sam was looking for.

Sam just nodded and looked away. The two sat silently in the empty library for a long time, long enough that Sam went back to his notes before Adam finally spoke again.

"Thanks, man." He said earnestly, watching his brother.

Sam gave him small, sad half smile in return. Adam was sure Sam wanted to say more, Sam seemed to always have more to say, but he had noticed on this topic Sam was careful and concise. He seemed to choose his words carefully and never pushed too hard, perceptively aware of how much Adam needed to say or wanted to hear.

"I think I'm gonna take a break and go look for some non-ghost books," Adam said standing up from the table.

"Sure man, go for it," Sam said.

Adam walked away from the table and toward the library's old card catalog determined to look for books on dealing with grief. He wasn't sure he would actually have the nerve to find the books on the shelves, but he could at least be brave enough to look up the topic.


	12. Taking the fall

_Timeline- The end of the first summer with the Winchester family, Adam is 12 going on 13 years old._

 

"Fuck!" Dean said pacing between the two motel room beds, roughly running a hand through his hair.

"Dean..." Adam questioned gently, hoping that Dean's rage wouldn't turn on him.

"Fuck!" he said again sharply and then stopped pacing abruptly.

"Fuck," he said, this time in resignation, rubbing a hand behind his neck. "Get him out of here Sammy,"

"Dean… Are you...?"

"Just go Sam! Now" Dean shouted.

Sam quickly grabbed Adam by the upper arm and rushed him out of the motel room and down the stairs, turning the corner just as the sound of their father's truck could be heard making the turn into the parking lot.

"What's going…" Adam began to ask, trying to pull himself from Sam's stronghold.

"Shh!" Sam shushed, dragging him away from the front parking lot and around the back of the building before letting go of Adam's arm with a shove.

"What the hell Sam?" Adam asked, rubbing his arm trying to take away the soreness left by his brother's strong fingers.

"Jesus Adam," Sam said, not looking at him and walking off down the street, leaving his confused little brother behind.

"What's going on!?" Adam questioned, nearly shouting and running to catch up with Sam.

Sam froze and spun back around on Adam "Dean's about to take the fall for you kid!" he barked.

"What?" Adam said in shock as Sam rolled his eyes and angrily stalked off, leaving Adam once more.

"Wait! What?" Adam yelled again, racing to keep up with his long-legged older brother, "What are you talking about?"

Sam wouldn't stop walking and wouldn't look at him, only shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets in anger.

"Sam!" Adam said, roughly grabbing his brother's arm, which Sam furiously ripped from his grip. "Stop!" Adam shouted, desperate for an explanation.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned again, trailing behind his brother.

"Dean's back there taking the blame for your stupid mistake!" Sam snarled, trying to ignore Adam's confused looks "He's gonna try to talk Dad down and if he can't he's gonna take the beating that ought to be coming to you."

Adam stopped still in disbelief, "Wha…" Adam started, the words dying on his tongue.

Dean taking a beating for him? No way. That was impossible. Dean hated him, or if he didn't hate Adam at the very least didn't like him very much. Adam had been with the Winchesters for nearly a year now and he could count on one hand the number of times that Dean had used his name, preferring to call him "kid" or "dumbass" or some various version of. There was no way that Dean would take the blame for Adam's slip-up during today's hunt. Sure, dad was pissed, but he seemed to always be on edge and Adam had only seen him get angry enough to take his belt to the boys a few times and never to Dean.

"No way," Adam said aloud, shaking his head and following Sam blindly, not caring where his brother was leading him, but truthfully a little relieved that it was in the opposite direction of the motel and his angry father.

"No way," Adam repeated again, making sure that Sam heard him, "Dean wouldn't do that. He hates me."

Sam stopped suddenly and faced his brother, "Oh my god, you  _are_  a dumbass." He said flatly, his voice full of spite.

"Great. You too," Adam said, glaring at his brother before turning away.

Sam reached out and seized Adam's arm and shook him, hard enough to rattle his head and force Adam to use all his strength to push away.

"You're a selfish little prick! You know that?" Sam yelled at him.

"I am not!" Adam shouted back, wishing he could come up something better in retaliation.

"Dean's back there getting his ass beat so you don't have to! And you're bitching that he hates you!"

"He does Sam! He's an asshole!" Adam growled back. "Besides! Dad wouldn't beat Dean! He's 21!"

"Please," Sam said shaking his head "If Dad thought he deserved it, he'd beat Dean if he was 41."

"Are you kidding Sam?" Adam asked, becoming seriously concerned that Dean might be in trouble. "Sam, really?"

"Yeah, Adam!" Sam yelled, "Why do you think he rushed us out of there? Dad's pissed and someone is gonna feel it,"

Adam was stunned into silence, following automatically after Sam, trotting to keep with his older brother's angry strides.

"So…" Adam started quietly, "Dean's gonna tell Dad he messed up the bullets?

"Yeah," Sam said simply.

Adam shook his head in disbelief. "Why would he do that?"

"Cause you're our little brother Adam. We're supposed to protect you," Sam said not looking at him.

"But Dean… he hates…" Adam starts.

"Don't say it!" Sam snapped. "He doesn't hate you. He's pissed at Dad because of you."

"Because of me?" Adam questioned, confused.

"Because Dad hid you from us. Because Dad had another woman in his life that wasn't our mom. Because you had a better life then we did. Because of what Dad let happen to your mom."

Adam felt his jaw slide open in surprise.

"Are you seriously just realizing this?" Sam asked, looking at his stunned little brother, "Dean's jealous you got to have a childhood. It makes him crazy that Dad took you for ice cream and out to baseball games. We never had that. You had the life that we wanted when we were kids. Dean might make fun of the apple pie life, but he'd kill to have it."

"But he's been such a jerk," Adam said quietly.

"Only because he can't come out and say that shit to Dad." Sam explained, shaking his head, "Even if he wanted to Dean would never call Dad out on all his bullshit. He's too busy trying to make the man proud."

"Oh," Adam said, feeling small.

Suddenly the reality of what could be happening back at the motel sank in and Adam stopped short.

"Sam! We have to go back!" Adam yelled, ready to turn on his heels and run back to the seedy motel Dad had them in. "I can't let him do this!"

Sam reached out and gently put a hand on Adam's upper arm to hold him back.

"No Adam." he said, "We can't go back. If we do and you tell Dad what really happened, we are all gonna get beat. And then Dean sacrificed himself for nothing."

Adam's face fell and he felt the familiar feeling of misery building in his chest.

"Please Sam, I can't let Dean do this. Maybe if I could just explain to Dad that it was an accident. I really didn't mean to," Adam tried.

Sam just shook his head.

It really was an accident. Adam didn't even know there were witch killing bullets in the trunk of the Impala. He'd been in such a rush retrieve the silver bullets his Dad called for that he didn't think to look where he grabbed them from. It wasn't until in the middle of the hunt, trying to shoot down a pack of Vetala that Dean realized what was loaded in his and their Dad's guns weren't the silver bullets they needed to put down the creatures, but bullets made from brass and charmed to kill witches.

Dean had called out to Dad, screaming to him to grab his silver knife. Luckily Sam had loaded his gun and Adam's with the correct bullets and Sam had quickly realized the situation, tossing Dean his own gun before tackling a shaking Adam and grabbing his weapon to fire on the impending pack.

It had been a close call for sure, but they were all ok and the pack had been taken down. Adam was thankful it had turned out well but had never really doubted it would. He had total faith in his father and brothers. Not to mention that he'd been taught to always have more than one weapon on his person always. So, he knew that each of the Winchesters had a silver blade on them in addition to their gun. He figured the fact that he had loaded the wrong bullets into the guns could probably be forgiven since he was still new to hunting and honestly didn't know the difference between the ammo.

He knew his Dad was mad. That fact was abundantly clear from the man's vibrant red face and snarled lips as he screamed at the boys to clear the scene. They had all heard the distant sounds of sirens quickly growing closer. They knew it was local PD responding to the shots fired calls from worried neighbors.

The brothers hadn't said a word and immediately followed their father's order, grabbing their weapons and fleeing. Adam listened to Dean scream at him during the brief ride back the sketchy motel, dragging him out of the car by his collar when they arrived. Adam had shrugged him off though, used to Dean's gruff attitude and irritation.

It wasn't until Sam's admission a few moments ago Adam realized the severity of the situation. Adam liked to think he wasn't a stupid kid, but he was realizing that he truly messed up. He could have gotten his family killed just because he wasn't paying attention. Even if it was an honest mistake, it was still a mistake- and Dad had often reminded him, there was no room for mistakes in hunting.

Adam felt lower than low. He felt like he deserved the punishment that his Dad would have offered him. Maybe it would absolve some of his guilt.

"Sam," Adam tried again, "Dean can't do this. I messed up, I should take the belt,"

Again, Sam shook his head, "No Adam. Trust me. You don't want this one. Dad is as furious as I've ever seen him. Dean'll be lucky if he can talk to him at all before Dad starts in on him."

Adam felt tears fill his eyes at Sam's words. "He didn't have to take it for me," he whispered.

"Kid," Sam said, looping an arm around Adam's shoulders "Dean's your big brother. So am I. We're never gonna let you get hurt if we can help it,"

"This sucks Sam," Adam said, holding in a sniffle.

"I know man." Sam said, pulling Adam in for a half hug, "Hopefully when we get back Dad will have calmed down and all this will be over."

Adam followed his big brother on a long, winding walk that took them across and back to the small town they had moved into for the week. It was several hours and very dark by the time they returned to the motel.

Adam was quick to search the parking lot for the Winchester cars, but only spotted Dean's Impala sitting in the lonely parking lot.

"Looks like Dad already went to drink away the hunt," Sam mumbled as they walked past the car and up to the motel room door.

Sam was quiet when he opened the door and Adam found himself holding his breath unsure and afraid of what he might see on the other side. Violent scenes of his oldest brother in various states of bruised and bloodied flashed through his mind and he found he had to force himself to follow Sam into the room.

What he saw when he entered was not a violent scene; it was quite the opposite. Dean was asleep in one of the motel room beds, lying on his stomach his arms tucked up beneath a pillow under his head, blankets covering him haphazardly with one leg sticking out making his dark blue boxer shorts partially visible.

"We should go to bed too," Sam whispered, "It's late."

Adam nodded in response, but couldn't take his eyes off Dean. He was intently studying his older brother, noticing the bright red welts and dark purple bruises that covered Dean from mid-thigh to up under his shorts.

Sam noticed Adam staring and gave him a little shove toward the motel bathroom, encouraging him to get on with getting ready for bed. Adam didn't need any more prompting, not wanting to make any more trouble for the day and, as silently as he could, grabbed his duffle and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As he passed Sam on the way out of the bathroom, he gave a questioning nod, silently asking his brother which bed he wanted to sleep in. Sam nodded over to the other open motel bed like Adam knew he would. If given a choice (and a roll-out cot) each brother would sleep separately, but as it was sometimes they had to share with each other or their father. Anytime Dad was gone, even at the bar pulling his all-nighters, Sam and Dean would each claim a bed and then argue, wrestle or just plain fight to decide who had to share with Adam. It was not his favorite time of the day, but right now Adam didn't really mind that he'd be sharing with Dean.

Adam soundlessly moved across the room and slid under the blankets next to Dean. He did his best to settle in gently, hoping not to disturb his brother.

"Mmmmph," Dean mumbled into the pillow when Adam rolled over to face him.

"Dean?" Adam whispered, wondering if Dean was awake.

"Mmmmph?" came a muffled reply.

"I just…. I'm sorry," Adam whispered at the back of his brother's head, "…and thank you."

"Ugh. Shut up," mumbled Dean, shifting slightly to reach out and throw an arm across Adam's back like he sometimes did when Adam had nightmares.

Adam smiled in the dark and promised himself that he'd find a way to make it up to Dean, even if it meant not being so bothered by being called "kid" all the damn time.

_A/N- Thank you, everyone, for reviewing and leaving kudos! I'm always looking for new ideas if you guys have any to share._


	13. Catastrophe and consequence

_Timeline- Adam is 12 years old and has been with his new family for a few months. He's still training and adjusting to the Winchester lifestyle and is being left behind while the others go on hunts._

Being alone never used to bother Adam. It was normal for him. Mom worked long shifts, 12 and 14 hours, overnights and sometimes weekends. He was comfortable in his aloneness. He'd wander around his house, read, watch tv, go over to friends houses. It wasn't a big deal.

But that was before.

Before his world was shaken to its very core.

Now, he hated being alone. He hated being left behind, always in an unfamiliar place, listening for all the strange sounds that accompanied the shady motels that the Winchesters called home. He'd sit and watch tv, trying to find the comfort in the solitude that he used to have. Searching within himself to find the calm and peace that once came easily. He'd try to ignore the thumping cars outside or the screams and fights of the other occupants coming through the thin walls. He'd try to focus on the lore books that Sam left him or practice with the ropes and knives that Dean left behind. He'd try. But really he could never focus. From the moment Dad ditched him, with insincere half-truths about how long he and the older boys would be gone, Adam's anxiety would begin its epic climb. He would end up pacing the room or walking down to the outside soda machine every 30 minutes, taking the opportunity to look down the open stretch of highway and pray for a sign of Dad's truck or the familiar lights of Dean's beloved Impala. Over the hours or days, they would be gone, Adam would run through all the scenarios of what could happen. He'd make his plans for how long he would wait for them and what he might do if they didn't come back. Sam was the only one honest enough to admit there was always a chance they might not come back. For all Dad's talk of how hunting was 'seriously business and life or death' anytime, Adam would ask if they were going to be ok on the hunt, Dad would brush him off.

" _We'll be fine Adam. Don't worry."_

Dean was just as bad. He'd never admit that Dad could be dragging them into something they might not come out of unhurt or even alive. And the thought of losing another part of his family terrified Adam in a way he didn't have the words to describe.

He'd begged Dad to take him along on this hunt. He'd been training. He figured he knew enough about hunting to go along. He was even willing to stay in the car while they did the actual hunt. Anything not to be stuck alone in the motel room, waiting and wondering if the only people he had left in the world were going to come back to him.

He'd been alone for almost two days. Adam was counting the hours. At 6 pm tonight, Dad and his brothers will have been gone for 48 hours. And Adam hadn't slept the entire time.

Suddenly, the motel room door burst open with a thud against the wall and the sound sent Adam jumping off the bed as he looked over to see Sam and Dad dragging a lifeless Dean between them.

"Dean!" Adam screamed instinctively, running to meet the trio.

"Get out of the way!" Dad yelled gruffly, grabbing Adam by the shirt with his free hand and roughly shoving the 12-year-old out of their path.

"Dean!" Adam cried again pitifully, shuffling backward as he watched Dad and Sam lay Dean's unconscious body down on the motel bed where only moments ago Adam had been sitting; absentmindedly watching tv, while wondering many days travel by bus he was from his hometown of Windom.

Adam's heart was in his throat as he stared at his unconscious older brother. Dean had blood trailing down the right side of his face, covering his ear and running down his throat. His face was sickly pale, causing the bright red blood to stand out even more against his skin. The blue glow of the television cast an unearthly sheen on his brother's pallid skin and Adam felt his gut twitch at the sight. He reached back and quickly turned off the television set, hoping it would make Dean look normal again, but even with the set off, Dean still looked pretty bad. Dad said this was supposed to be to be a quick, routine hunt; a good chance for Sam and Dean to get in some practice over the weekend. It was a "milk run". No one was supposed to get hurt on a 'milk run'

"ADAM!"

Adam was startled out of his thoughts by Dad's angry roar.

"NOW!" Dad yelled at him again.

Adam was frozen in fear. Dad had apparently been barking orders since they got in the room and Adam had been so intent on his brother he hadn't noticed or obeyed.

"HOT WATER BOY!" Dad bellowed.

Adam flew into motion, rushing away from the scene and into the kitchenette of the motel room, digging under the sink for the pot he knew was there. He grabbed it quickly, hurrying to fill it with water as he watched Dad and Sam from the corner of his eye.

"Goddammit," Dad mumbled as he examined Dean.

Adam watched as Dad felt around Dean's head, finding the spot near the top of his head where the bleeding was coming from and motioning to Sam.

"Here Sam." He said, waving Sam over.

Adam hadn't noticed, but at some point Sam had grabbed one of their first aid kits and was standing by Dad at the ready, holding a wad of clean gauze in his hand.

Sam was silent as he moved toward his older brother's head, gently placing and holding a square of gauze on the spot his father had pointed out. Dad continued to run his hands across Dean's head and neck, then gently made his way down the boy's shoulders and arms feeling for something Adam couldn't see.

The water in the pot had almost spilled over before Adam noticed and he quickly turned off the tap and set it on the stove before turning it on to boil. Once the stove was going he rushed back over to the motel bed, watching his father work.

Dad had made his way down Dean's chest and hips and was now checking his right leg.

"Goddammit," Dad said again through gritted teeth, as he pulled on Dean's jeans revealing an angry red burn on his calf.

Adam let out a startled gasp at the sight of the burn. Once when he was little he'd touched a hot pan his mother left on the stove and he remembered his chubby little hand being red and later puffy with a blister, but that was nothing like the char and gore on Dean's leg. It almost didn't look like it could be real. Adam had never seen skin look like that, so red and leathery, with black charred edges. Dean's leg didn't look like it belonged to Dean; it looked like something out of a war movie, something that the makeup department had worked for hours on. Not an injury that a real person could have and recover from.

"Dad…" Adam whispered in frightened astonishment.

John took a deep breath seeing the extent of the damage to Dean's leg. It was worse than he had originally anticipated. He'd seen Dean get thrown, heard the sound of flame, but he'd been thrown backward as well and missed seeing the actual injury. He remembered Dean getting back up though, running back into the fray and throwing a knife at their target before he was tossed again and hit his head against a tree. Knowing that Dean had been able to get up and run after whatever hit he took made John think the wound wouldn't be this bad. But no, this was pretty damn bad.

He'd do what he could now, lace the kid with painkillers and clean him up, but if it didn't look somewhat better by tomorrow they'd all be hauling ass to the closest burn unit. As much as he dreaded about the questions he and Dean would receive about the injury, he was far more worried about Dean potentially losing muscle or feeling in his leg.

Gritting his teeth John steeled himself, burying his emotions and began issuing orders again rapidly.

"Adam, change places with Sam. Keep a gentle pressure on that head wound. Sam, get me the full med kit,"

Adam jumped to follow orders and took over for Sam, trying to carefully but quickly grab the gauze without hurting Dean. Sam took off to find their full medical kit, the one with more than just gauze and duct tape, and Adam was left staring down at Dean, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. Swallowing his nerves, Adam tried to distance himself from the terror he could feel building in his chest. He had to get ahold of his emotions. He wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. Doctors don't get emotional in an emergency.

_Get tough_. He thought, scolding himself.

He watched as Dad used his hunting knife to cut away the parts of Dean's jeans that weren't already seared off. The burn wasn't as large as it had looked at first, but it was still nasty, taking up the left side of Dean's calf. Dad paused a moment and looked up at both Sam and Adam.

"He's gonna be ok," Dad said calmly, his voice detached and clinical.

Adam could only nod dumbly in response and Sam stayed silent.

"Stay there," Dad ordered, as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen. He turned off the now boiling pot of water and began to wash his hands, dutifully scrubbing each of his fingers and well past the wrists of each hand.

"Sam, come get some towels sterilized, I want you to get cleaned up. Adam, then you. We've gotta dress that burn so it doesn't get infected and it's gonna hurt Dean like a bitch. Adam, you'll hand me the dressings that I need. Sam, you'll hold your brother down."

_Hold him down?_

Adam gulped at the thought.

"Dad?" Sam whispered, shaken at the thought of having to physically restrain his suffering older brother.

John ignored Sam's questioning, not looking up from the soap on his hands, but spoke firmly, a very business-like tone taking up residency in his normally gruff voice, "He hasn't regained consciousness yet. Getting that burned cleaned out is bound to wake him up. And anyone waking up to that kinda pain ain't gonna be still. So sit on him if you have to."

Adam looked at Sam with wide eyes. Dean would be so embarrassed if he knew Dad didn't think he could be still and tough it out. Sam didn't look at Adam, only gave a tight turn of his head, his jaw locked rigidly, the only indication that he didn't like his father's words

They all worked quickly to get set up, each looking back to check on Dean every few moments. Adam was careful in laying out the materials John demanded be ready to clean and dress the wound. He was realizing that as much as he wanted to learn medicine and help people, he didn't like playing nurse to his Dad's doctor. Several times as he was getting out gauze and bandages (trying every few seconds to convince himself this was just a patient and not his brother) he'd have to bite his tongue to keep from asking why Dean was here when he so clearly needed to be at a hospital.

Moments later they were ready and Sam got into position, hovering over Dean's body ready to restrain him if needed.

"Ok," Dad said, seated on a kitchen chair he'd pulled up next to the bed where Dean lay. Adam watched as his father looked up at Dean's still unconscious face, pausing briefly before taking a deep breath and hardening himself.

"Ok," he said again, picking up the small bottle of cold water he had filled up and nodded for a piece of clean gauze from Adam.

The moment the water and gauze touched Dean he awoke with a howl of pain.

"Sam!" Dad yelled, as Dean kicked and fought against the agony. "Adam!" Dad yelled again, nodding down at his own hands holding onto Dean's thrashing leg. Adam moved quickly and grabbed Dean's knee, freeing John's hand to hold up the boy's leg so he didn't drag the open wound across the old motel bedding.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam was chanting above them, trying to bring their brother back from the edge of pain and into his rational mind. Sam knew his brother well enough to know that if Dean could wake up enough to realize what was happening, he'd stop fighting immediately and take any pain Dad could dish out.

Adam focused on holding his brother's leg and tried to block everything else out, but he couldn't ignore the panic in Sam's voice as he whispered, "Dean, Dean its ok. It's ok. You're ok."

Sam's mantra of reassurance seemed to ground Dean and within moments he became still, his only movement the involuntary shaking of his leg.

"Is he going into shock?" Adam whispered across Dean's injured leg to their father.

John only briefly glanced up at Dean's face before returning his intent focus back on treating the wound.

"No.," he said, "He hasn't lost that much blood. It's just the pain and adrenaline,"

Adam nodded, loosening his tight hold on Dean's knee and reaching down to grab another clean piece of gauze for Dad. He was glad it wasn't shock. He didn't know that much about medicine yet, but he'd heard people yell "he's going into shock!" on medical shows on tv and it always seemed dramatic and really bad for the patient.

John tried to work quickly, but he had to be meticulous in cleaning and covering the burn. He knew any fragment of residue could start an infection that would devastate Dean's entire body. He fixated on his task, ignoring Dean's involuntary flinches of pain and Sam's steady, rhythmic whispered reassurances.

Outside of his scream of pain in the beginning, Dean didn't make a sound through the whole process, only shaking and halting intakes of breath and the chattering of his teeth when he let the air out. John kicked himself for not giving the boy something to take the edge off before he started working.

"Sam, get your brother the good pain meds. Adam, go grab some extra blankets." John said, finishing and standing up from the chair and grabbing a fresh, sterilized towel.

As Sam left Dean's side, John stepped up taking the cloth and beginning to clean off the blood that had dried around his son's face.

"Can you lean a little left for me son? Need to see if this head wound of yours needs stitches," he asked gently.

Adam came back from across the room after digging in the motel room closet and finding another blanket. He watched as Dean turned his head and Dad very gently took the damp cloth and began to dab at his son's hair. Adam felt a little uncomfortable watching the scene. It felt so intimate. Dad wasn't normally a gentle kinda guy and seeing him ask and not order Dean to do something, made Adam scared. Maybe Dean was hurt worse than he thought.

Sam came back with water and a handful of pills, kneeling down between the motel beds so Dean could take them from his hand without moving.

"Every 4 hours, Sam," John said, continuing to examine Dean's head.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied sincerely.

Adam knew exactly as Dad did, that if Sam was told to make sure Dean took meds every 4 hours that's exactly what would happen, no matter what else was happening or how much Dean fought or complained about it later. Sam took Dean's care just a seriously as Dean did Sam's.

Dean took the pills, putting them in his mouth, grabbing the water glass from Sam and taking a small sip, all without moving his head an inch.

"Get him a glass of whiskey too Sam," Dad said, dabbing at Dean's scalp, causing Dean to close his eyes and grimace in pain.

Sam took the glass from Dean and went over to their father's duffle bag without a word. Adam was surprised; he'd expected Sam to challenge Dad. Even Adam knew you weren't supposed to mix pain meds and alcohol. But maybe that was just another part of Winchester triage.

"No stitches on this one," John said, causing Dean to let out a sigh of relief; one John wanted to echo as well, "You hurt anywhere else son?"

Dean started to nod, then stopped himself, clearly feeling the massive headache his concussion and head wound had caused. "No.," he said, his voice dry and rough.

"You think you can sit up enough to get that shirt off?" John asked, pointing down to the bloody flannel Dean was wearing.

"Yeah," Dean said, slowly sitting up a little and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Adam stood at the foot of the bed, watching and feeling useless as Dad helped Dean peel off his shirt. He kept waiting for Dean to notice him and make some sarcastic comment like "enjoying the show" or "next time I'm charging", but he didn't. He was silent as Dad helped him remove the flannel and then gently pulled his undershirt over his head. Adam watched closely as Dad managed to help Dean all while keeping the handful of gauze on Dean's scalp; Adam guessed it was so he wouldn't start bleeding again with the movement, but the tenderness of it was a little overwhelming and frightening.

Suddenly Sam appeared beside them with one of Dean's clean shirts, before Adam had even noticed he was missing. Sam helped Dean get the shirt on, leaving it open and unbuttoned, while Dad continued to press the gauze to his head.

"Shit," Dean whispered as he lay back on the bed, the pain of the small movements leaving him breathless with little beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

"You're gonna be alright son," John assured him, with a confidence he didn't quite feel, "Those pain meds should kick in soon,"

John nodded over to Sam, encouraging him to hand Dean the whiskey glass he had brought over and placed on the table between the two beds. Sam grabbed the glass and handed it to Dean, watching as his brother leaned up on his elbows and downed the whole glass in one gulp.

Dean lay back down gently and John couldn't help but gently brush a hand across his forehead, "You get some rest. You'll feel better soon."

Dean closed his eyes with a tiny nod and Sam pulled up the extra blankets Adam had found, tucking them around their brother.

John watched his oldest son; eyes closed, trying to control the pain that was coursing through his young body and John felt mishmash of feelings began to build inside him.

He should have been there.

He should be the one laying in this bed, not Dean.

He shouldn't have brought the boys out on this one.

But it was supposed to be a simple job. The research said it would be simple.

The research.

As the memory solidified, John felt his guilt transforming into rage. They'd been caught blind. Surprised by the second monster. Normally they would have known about a second wendigo in the area. John had been adamant about teaching the boys extensive reconnaissance when gathering information about a hunt. It was extremely rare that anything fell through the cracks, especially not something big like this. It was then John remembered his youngest son's offhand remark from two days ago, and he struggled to control the beast of fury that was waking inside him.

"Is he gonna be ok?" Adam suddenly whispered, interrupting John's thoughts.

"Fine," he said turning away briskly.

Adam looked across the bed at Sam for an explanation of Dad's sudden shift, but Sam was still watching Dean anxiously. Adam stood restlessly at the end of the bed for a moment, unsure of what to do. Standing around watching Dean sleep was getting creepy, but also didn't wanna leave his brother's side in case he needed something. Sam must have felt the same, because he sat down on the other motel bed across from Dean, still watching. One glance at Dad, furiously scrubbing his hands at the kitchen sink and Adam decided sticking close to his brothers was the wise thing to do.

The room was quiet for a long time, only the sound of Dad quietly cleaning up and Dean's soft breathing filling the room. Although he said nothing, Sam and Adam could feel the tension radiating off their father as he worked.

This wasn't the first hunt with an injury that Adam had seen, but it was the first time he'd had seen one of his brothers get seriously hurt. Sure, Dad had come home several times with some pretty impressive wounds, but never Sam or Dean. Adam figured Dad protected them while out on hunts, that's why he always got hurt and they were ok. He didn't know what had happened this time and frankly, he was afraid to ask.

Thankfully Dean didn't seem too bad off, at least not as bad as it had seemed when they had dragged him through the door. Adam was almost sure that when he work up again, Dean would brush off the whole thing and demand they go back out and train tomorrow.

Judging by Dad's surly movements around the kitchen though, he didn't seem ready to brush it off and get back to work.

"Sam," Dad called from the kitchen, his deep voice low in the quiet room.

He may have only said Sam's name, but both boys knew instantly that it was an order, a 'get your ass over here' kinda order.

Sam didn't sigh or scowl like he normally did when Dad beckoned him. He didn't feel like he had the energy. For once he didn't really want to fight with Dad. There was only one way this was gonna end and he wished they'd just get on with it already.

"You got anything to say?" Dad asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam didn't answer right away, only stared back at his father. But then again he never answered right away. It wasn't intentional, but he often found himself trying to find the right words to make himself understood, or trying to hold in his own temper only to have it build inside him in the silence until it exploded in a tsunami of vicious words and accusations.

The room was quiet as John waited, leaving the silence between them, expecting Sam to fill the void.

Adam held his breath and watched the two stare each other down, until suddenly and unexpectedly Sam surrendered, averting his gaze down to Dad's boots, anger and guilt flooding his young face.

"It was an accident," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Accident?" John questioned skeptically, his voice dangerously low.

The tension in the room was palpable and Adam felt fear tighten in his stomach. He hated the conflict that constantly existed between Sam and Dad. They were almost always at each other's throats and it seemed to be getting worse.

Adam looked over at Dean, still sleeping on the bed, blissfully unaware of the situation developing in the kitchen. Dean was the peacekeeper in the family, quick to jump between the two warring sides and calm everyone down. But with Dean out of commission, did that responsibly fall to Adam? He'd never considered it before. What was he supposed to do? He was 12. And small. It's not like he could physically get between them like Dean did, they were both still a head taller than he was.

"Accident?" He heard Dad repeat again; standing up from the counter he'd been leaning against and moving toward Sam.

To his credit, Sam didn't flinch or back away. He stood still, his eyes firmly fixed on the worn linoleum floor.

"No," John said seriously. "I wanna hear what happened. Everything."

Even from across the room Adam could see Sam's jaw tighten and he knew his brother was struggling to keep the reins on his temper, "You know what happened Dad. You were there."

"Clearly, I don't Sam," came Dad's terse reply.

Sam clenched his teeth and scowled at the floor. Dad was really gonna do this. Try to drag a confession out of him. Well, Sam was gonna be damned if that was gonna happen.

"Come on Sam, don't make me beat it out of you," Dad said, aggravated.

"What does it matter? You're gonna beat me anyway." Sam said resentfully to the floor.

John gave Sam a dark stare, clenching his teeth and fists in an effort not smack the insolence out of the boy right there. John was a strict disciplinarian, he knew that, but he went to great lengths in an effort to control of his temper. Which is more than he could say of his own stepfather. Admittedly there had been times when he'd had too much to drink after a difficult hunt that he'd let loose on one son or another, but those were extenuating circumstances. Never when he was in his right mind would he do anything more than punish his children, as they deserved. He understood that they might not see it that way, but they were children. They'd understand when they got older. They'd see that everything he'd ever done was to protect and prepare them for the awful world that lay in wait for them.

The silence was again building in the room and the air was becoming heavy with tension. Adam sat motionless on the motel bed, keeping one eye on Dean and the other on the mounting confrontation in the kitchen. Although the argument was no longer in strained whispers, Dean was still passed out and didn't appear to be disturbed. Wishing that whatever painkillers Dad had given Dean weren't so strong, Adam rallied his courage and began to inch his way over to the kitchen, preparing himself to something to help Sam.

"It was an accident!" Sam said finally, collapsing under the weight of his father's silent intensity.

"An accident caused by your carelessness!" John shot back immediately, his voice coming out in a harsh whisper, "We went in blind Sam!"

"Your brother was hurt tonight because of you! When are you gonna realize hunting comes first? It has to come first! If we don't have all the information- people get hurt! Your brothers get hurt!"

"Dad?" Adam called quietly from the edge of the kitchen, getting as close as he dared to the commotion.

Dad shot him a look that made Adam bite his tongue and shrink back against the wood paneling. Hating himself for being afraid, for not manning up and defending his brother, Adam slunk back over to the motel room beds and sat down across from Dean.

"Dad." Sam said through clenched teeth, "You know I would never want you guys to get hurt.

"Of course not Sam," John said, his voice in control but still thick with anger, "but you need to understand how serious this is."

"I do Dad! Why would you think I didn't?"

"Because you went off chasing a skirt instead of getting us information about this case!" Dad yelled, losing control of his temper.

Sam's eyes flew over to Adam accusingly.

Adam stared back openmouthed with shock. He didn't know that was a secret when he told Dad. He didn't even really tell him, just mentioned offhandedly how Sam had been out with a girl. Adam had thought it was pretty cool at the time, Sam getting a girl. Especially since they'd only been in town three days. Adam had just been complaining to Dad that he was the only Winchester without any game; that even Sam could pick up a girl quick if he wanted to. He didn't know Dad wasn't supposed to know.

"Don't look at him." John said drawing Sam back, "You were told to be interviewing local shop owners about the case. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think you could get by on half-assing your research?"

"You know better than this Sam! Look what happens when you don't do your job!" John continued, angrily pointing a finger at Dean who was still oblivious on the bed. "You think he can hunt on that leg? Drive even? It's gonna be weeks before he's healed! And that's on you!"

"Me?!" Sam shot, back no longer able to hold in his own temper, "I'm not the only one in this family who can research and interview people  _Dad_ ,"

John took a threatening step forward.

"You watch that fucking tone with me, boy," he growled, "We each had assigned tasks, this was yours."

Sam clenched his teeth again in a scowl, shame flushing in his cheeks. "It was an accident," he ground out, his voice shaky but determined.

Sam didn't care what Dad said. It wasn't wrong to want to go out with a girl. Dean did it all the time, but of course, when Sam finally catches a break with a local chick Dad has to act like it's the end of the world. All the research had been done; he'd interviewed every shop owner in this piss ant town. Of course, he had. Sam knew hunting was important, and the research before going in was the most important part. He wasn't an idiot. He'd never knowingly let Dad or Dean go in without all the information he had. Just because there  _wasn't_ any more information and Sam  _happened_  to get a date, Dad decided to throw the two together as it being his fault they got jumped by the second bastard.

Fine. Let him think that.

Dad glared at Sam. Adam gulped down the nerves that were beginning to shake inside him and slowly slid down to the floor beside Dean. If he couldn't man up and help Sam, he was at least gonna stay out of sight. Not only that but being a little closer to Dean, even unconscious, made him feel a little safer in a room filled with wild Winchester rage.

Adam watched from behind Dean as Dad and Sam stared at each other for a moment, before Dad took a step back and away from Sam, reaching down and beginning to undo his belt buckle.

Sam's scowl faltered and panic flashed across his face, but he hid it quickly.

"I'm almost 17 Dad. You really gonna give me the belt?" he questioned cynically.

John paused, his hands on the loops of his jeans, "I'll do this as long as it takes for you to learn boy. Hunting comes first. Family comes first. Always. This one is on you."

Sam continued to glare, surprising Adam with his audacity. "And what if I won't stand still and take it?"

John didn't move, but returned his son's glare and challenge. "Then I'll make you take it."

John paused a moment, letting the threat sink in. In truth hoped Sam wouldn't call his bluff on this one. The boy was getting so damn bullheaded John was never sure what challenge Sam might call him on, but he had to keep his game face on.

"Do you want that Sam? Do you want me to make you take it?" John growled, doubling down.

Sam's confidence wavered and fear flickered across his eyes. As much as Sam wanted to test his father, he knew this probably wasn't an empty threat; John would tie him down and beat him if necessary. Sam's chest rose and fell unevenly as he watched his father, fear coiled deep in his stomach.

He hated this. This feeling of being stuck; backed against a wall, suffering under his father's controlling wrath. Over the years he'd thought through all the things he could do to try to get away from his overbearing and vengeful father, but none were a viable option, especially now with Adam to consider. Sam had even gone so far as to consider calling Child Protective Services and turning Dad in for neglect, if not for abuse. He'd mulled the idea over for a long time after Dad's last round of drunken rage had them sleeping in the Impala, but in the end, he couldn't do it. The call would devastate Dean and throw Adam into a broken system with no one to protect him. At least here they had each other and barring the occasional run-ins with Dad's temper they were safe.

Besides another year and he'd be 18. Dad could no longer drag him back if he ran away. He could no longer force Sam into doing anything he didn't want to do. He could no longer bend Sam over the tailgate of the trunk and belt him on the side of the road for being disrespectful, or drag him into a motel bathroom to whip into submission.

But for now, Sam was faced with having to willingly surrender to belt or being forced to submit, a choice that burned a hot ember of rage into his chest.

"Fine," he said finally, still glaring at his father.

John returned his glare with a hard look, before moving his hands to continue to remove his belt.

"Not here though," Sam said, trying to hide the shake in his voice, nodding over to Adam and Dean.

John looked across the motel room, his eyes resting briefly on Dean's still form and Adam cowering nearby.

"Fine. Bathroom."

Adam knew that's not what Sam had in mind. He was sure that when Sam said 'not here' he'd been implying that he and Dad go outside or go for a drive to have their 'talk', but Dad wasn't going to free him from the humiliation.

Sam turned away then and stalked off to the bathroom not even glancing at Adam as he passed.

Dad waited a moment and then followed behind him, pausing to look down at Adam, still perched on the floor between the two beds.

"You learn from this too." He said, staring down at his youngest.

Adam nodded quickly, choking on the "Yes sir," he whispered.

Adam watched hesitantly as Dad walked away, sliding his belt out from its loops, the whisper of leather against denim sending a shudder down Adam's spine. He caught a quick sight of Sam in the bathroom, hands already placed on either side of the motel room sink, bending slightly at the waist, his head tipped forward, long shaggy brown hair hiding the reflection of his face in the mirror before the door was closed.

Turning back around to Dean, Adam laid his head on the mattress beside his brother's still sleeping form, guilt bubbling up inside him. He should have helped Sam somehow. Dean wouldn't just let Dad do this. Dean would stop it. Dean would do something. But Adam wasn't Dean. And Adam didn't know what to do.

He couldn't stand this. He was so completely helpless when it came to Dad. Dean was teaching him to fight and Sam was teaching him to think, but all of that was useless when it came to challenging the man giving the orders. Sam was the only one who consistently challenged Dad's authority and look where he ended up. Adam was ashamed to say that he preferred to keep his head down and his backside safe and just follow orders. There were times though, times like this when he wanted to be stronger or braver when he wanted to at least try to stand up to Dad like Sam did. He wanted to convince him to listen. Maybe Sam had a good reason. Maybe it really was some kind of accident.

The sound of the first strike came clearly through the thin motel room door and startled Adam from his thoughts. He quickly buried his head in the mattress, pulling his arms up to cover his ears and hide the tears that were threatening him. He hadn't yet had to suffer the wrath of John Winchester's belt, but he feared it. He'd heard Sam get it, seen the welts and watched his brother walk with stiffness for days after. His mother never even spanked him growing up and now he lived in fear of whatever disobedient act might earn him a turn on the other side of the leather.

The sound of leather hitting denim continued and Adam wished whoever designed this motel room had made better doors. Sam and Dad might as well be standing right beside him for all the sound damping the thin bathroom door was doing. At the sound of each blow, Adam could feel himself flinch, trying not to count; trying not to think about the pain Sam was suffering.

He wished Dean would wake up.

Unfortunately, whatever cocktail of pain meds and whiskey Sam had given him had Dean out cold, despite the harsh sounds coming from the bathroom.

Soon their father opened the bathroom and stalked out, slamming it closed behind him. Adam didn't move, keeping his face hidden, ashamed of the tears that were now streaking his face. He felt Dad stop; standing over him and Adam held his breath waiting.

"Take care of your brother." He said, his voice gruff and uneven.

Adam's own breath hitched and he lifted his head cautiously, watching as Dad threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans.

"I'll get dinner," Dad said shortly, grabbing his coat off the chair and walking out, the motel room door closing forcefully behind him.

Adam didn't move. He couldn't. He wanted to hide. He wanted to disappear. Shame of not helping Sam and the fear of that thick black belt had frozen him to the spot.

"He's gone Adam," he heard whispered from behind him

Adam looked up at the voice, seeing Sam leaning weakly against the doorframe of the bathroom. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked tired as hell, but he managed a weak smile for his younger brother.

"I'm ok," he said reassuringly.

"Sam… I..." Adam started, jumping up from the floor quickly and wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand in embarrassment, "I…"

"It's ok," Sam said, stiffly walking over to the bed where Dean lay.

"Sam, man," Adam started again, "I'm SO sorry."

"Adam, it's not your fault ok?" Sam said quietly, moving over to Dean and adjusting the blankets covering him, "You had nothing to do with this,"

"Sam…"

"Adam. Stop." Sam said vehemently, putting an end to Adam's pleading.

Adam nodded, grateful that Sam didn't seem angry with him for spilling the beans to Dad.

"Do you uh...want some ice?" Adam asked hesitantly, not sure of how to help his brother.

Sam shook his head again. "I'm fine."

By the time Sam was ready to wake Dean for another round of painkillers, they'd eaten an uncomfortable meal with Dad and then he'd taken off to go back to the hunt site to confirm that there were no other loose ends that needed to be tied up. Adam had offered to go along, hoping to ease some of the strain still simmering between him and Sam, but Dad quickly refused.

"Dean?" Sam whispered quietly, standing over his brother attempting to wake him gently.

Dean mumbled in his sleep but didn't wake.

Anxious to help Adam came over and put a hand on Dean's upper arm, shaking him gently, "Dean?" he called softly.

Suddenly Adam's wrist was twisted violently and he fell to his knees beside Dean's motel bed, shrieking in surprise and pain.

"Dean!" Sam admonished from across the bed.

Dean awoke fully and quickly released Adam's arm "Ah... Sorry kid," Dean said, grimacing as he adjusted his injured leg.

Adam stood up slowly, shaking out the ache of Dean's instinctive move.

"Fuck man, I'm loopy." Dean said, absently rubbing his forehead, "What'd you give me Sam?"

"Just something to take the edge off," Sam replied, with a shrug.

"Shit. Take the edge off? I feel like Fear and Loathing over here, jeez." Dean said, lying back against the pillows.

"Fine" Sam said, "Just one this time then."

Dean nodded gently and reached for the pill and water glass Sam held out for him looking up at his brother for the first time.

"You ok Sam?" He asked, taking note of his brother's surly expression.

"Yeah. Fine Dean."

"Hmm." Dean said looking over at Adam, judging his youngest brother's expression as well, "You sure?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."

"Then why do you both look like someone kicked your puppy?" Dean asked, still considering Adam.

Adam tried to dodge Dean's intense stare, finding a sudden interest in the motel bedding.

"What the hell happened while I was out?" Dean questioned roughly, sounding exactly like Dad.

Sam was stoically silent and Adam bit his tongue, not willing to divulge anything Sam didn't want to share.

"Dad's pissed. Nothing new," Sam said with a shrug.

Dean sighed in defeat, "Yeah I figured. He's right though. I damn well almost barbequed myself."

"That wasn't your fault Dean," Sam said seriously.

"Really Sam?" Dean asked sarcastically "How'd ya figure? Maybe someone else dropped the torch on my leg?"

"Come on Dean! You got jumped from behind!" Sam said emphatically.

"I should have been watching," Dean said dismissively

"No. I should have." Sam said seriously. "I'm sorry Dean."

"It's not on you man. It's my own damn fault." Dean said, looking Sam in the eye.

It didn't matter what Sam thought, what Dad thought, or really even what happened during the hunt; if things got messed up at all Dean would blame himself. He felt all the weight of responsibility even though he'd been the one to save the fight by throwing that knife into the throat of the first wendigo, buying enough time for Sam to roast its ass and Dad to gank the second one. It didn't matter that Dean had saved everyone's asses. He could only feel the embarrassment of the failure that he'd gotten himself hurt.

"I'm an idiot. I can't believe I let that dick get the drop on me," Dean said, staring sadly at the motel's popcorn ceiling, "Dad's gonna kick my ass."

"Don't worry about it Dean," Sam said trying to end Dean's self-deprecation and grabbing the now empty water glass.

"Easy for you to say, man. You aren't the one staring down an ass warming from old J.W himself."

Sam rolled his eyes and said nothing, choosing instead to walk over to Dad's half open duffle bag. He grabbed the whiskey bottle leaning on the top and filled Dean's glass half full before bringing it back over.

"Dad doesn't know you did that, " he said, handing Dean the drink and nodding down at Dean's bandaged leg, "So seriously man, don't worry about it."

Dean stared skeptically at his younger brother, "So you want me to lie?"

"No," Sam said tersely, "Just keep your mouth shut."

Adam watched the exchange a little in awe of Sam. His brother was amazing. Sam just stood there and let Dad blame him, let Dad beat him for something that wasn't his fault. Then he just stood and lied to Dean about taking the beating, just because he knew it would upset his brother.

Later Adam would have to ask. He couldn't understand why Sam would put himself through such misery.

"Why'd you lie Sam?" he'd ask.

"Why not? It's better this way. Dad doesn't need to know, Dean's not embarrassed, everyone's happy."

"Yeah except you."

And Sam would shrug, brushing off taking the blame and a beating like it was no big deal like it wasn't the most unjust thing Adam had ever witnessed.

God, he had a lot to learn about being a Winchester brother.


	14. Just a Bad Hunt- Part 1

Sam knew.

He knew the minute his shoe hit the worn brown motel room carpet. He knew as soon as he felt the stifling stillness of misery in the room, as soon as he smelled the biting stink of failure masked with whiskey, he knew.

Sam watched with a careful eye as his younger brother bounded excitedly across the room, grabbing their father in a crushing hug. Dad had been gone on a hunt for over a month, the longest he'd ever been gone since Adam had joined the family. Adam had never mentioned it, but from the way he was hugging their father now, Sam suspected that Adam was worried that Dad might not make it back from this one.

Dad returned Adam's tight hug and looked up at Sam standing in the doorway, his red-rimmed eyes going soft. Dad held out an arm, inviting Sam in for a hug. Sam hesitated for a second then went in, squeezing his father tightly. As wary as he was of his father's current state, he'd missed the man and was relieved to see him back in one piece.

"How was the hunt?" Adam asked, craning his neck to look up at his father.

"It was ok," Dad said releasing both boys and gently running a hand over Adam's hair, smoothing it, "Where's your brother?" he asked turning to Sam.

"Dean got a job at a garage in town," Sam supplied, trying to surreptitiously assess just long Dad had been sitting alone in the motel room thinking and drinking.

"Hmm," Dad grunted in response, "He's supposed to be training Adam,"

"He is Dad!" Adam said, quickly coming to his brother's defense, "We always do weapons and sparring and stuff when he comes home. I just do stuff with Sam 'till then,"

"Speaking of…" Sam said seeing an opportunity to flee what he knew could become a tenuous scene, "We should go hit the library, Adam," he continued, walking over to his bed where he had left a stack of lore and Latin books earlier that morning.

As Sam grabbed the books, Dad cleared this throat, stopping him in his tracks.

"Uh, why don't you boys stay here and study huh?" Dad asked although Sam knew that he wasn't really asking. John Winchester didn't ask.

Sam bristled at being ordered around already, but with a quick glance over to the half-empty handle of whiskey on the motel room table, only gave a curt nod in agreement.

"Yeah ok," Adam replied, picking up the backpack he had dropped at the door in his rush to get to their father.

Sam turned away, putting the books back down on the bed, his senses tightly tuned into the sounds of his father pulling out the motel kitchenette chair and sitting back down at the table. As he emptied his books from his backpack, Sam listened carefully to the familiar sound of the top of a bottle being unscrewed and liquid being poured.

This was going to be an interesting afternoon.


	15. Just a Bad Hunt - Part 2

John gripped the glass tightly, staring down into the amber liquid, leaning over his worn journal trying to find the words to explain the horror of the last hunt. His thoughts drifted as he listened absently to the soft sounds of his younger sons practicing their Latin.

The past month had been hard. More than hard, it had very nearly been unbearable. Part of it was that the hunt had taken too long. John never wanted to be away from the boys for too long- a week, or maybe two, was the very most he felt comfortable with, but following a rogue werewolf meant that he was gone for an entire lunar cycle. Even with the intel that Bobby and Sam had given him, he was behind. The wolf was taking victims left and right, reeking havoc on the town. There seemed to be no pattern in the murders. Usually, with a werewolf it was easy to follow the path from victim back to creature, but something was different with this one. Victims were found in various locations, at different times of night. Embarrassingly it took John over a week to work out a radius of an area the werewolf inhabited and another week after that to pinpoint who it was that was turning and taking victims.

He grit his teeth at the thought of the discovery, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow of the warm, burning liquid hoping that the whiskey would soften the memory and lessen the pain of the reality.

The wolf had been a teenager. Close to Adam's age. The kid had been targeted at random by a pack moving through the area and ungraciously left behind to fend for himself. Poor kid didn't even know what he was. Didn't know what was happening to him.

John had gone through every scenario, tried to work out any sort of plan that would let him spare the child. He scoured for research and a cure. He'd called every hunter he knew and practically begged for some other option. He never told anyone that the werewolf he was hunting was a teen, even in the hunter's world he wasn't sure he'd be forgiven of the sin he was considering.

While he researched and worked, he watched the kid, for days at a time, tackling him and containing him at night when he turned and tried to strike, releasing him and offering a vague explanation in the morning. He debated over and over whether it was kinder to explain what was happening or to just get it over with. There was no cure for this, no end in sight for him. The kid was doomed to a life in which he would murder his family, his friends and everyone around him without even being aware of it. He'd change others, continue the werewolf race and bring more murder and misery to others in the world. How could John even begin to explain that?

It didn't help that this kid looked just like his sons, dark headed like Sam with soft adolescent features like Adam, only just beginning to look like the man he would never be.

John agonized for a week on what his course of action would be. In the end, it was exactly as he knew it would be- the wolf was put down and the boy with it. He'd never explained to the boy what was happening to him. John knew he'd been cowardly not to offer the kid some semblance of choice in the matter. He'd waited until the full moon, wanting to make sure there was no other way, no chance that the boy could return to normal, before letting the kid turn and ending it quickly with a silver bullet.

He was violently sick after that moment. John Winchester had seen a lot of horrible, horrible things in his life: the unforgettable tragedies of the Vietnam War, the despair and damnation that was brought upon his young family, and every haunting supernatural oddity since, but he'd never been brought this low. Leaving that town, John left a piece of himself there, a piece that he would never get back and part of his soul was immeasurably changed.

Adam was really trying to pay attention to the Latin that Sam was trying to teach him, but he couldn't focus. He kept sneaking looks at his Dad, slumped over the motel table gripping his whiskey glass like it was a lifeline out of his misery. Adam had never seen Dad quite like this before. Sure, there had been some hunts where he came back in a strange mood, more grumpy and gruff than normal, but this was weird. He'd been crying before they came in, Adam was sure of it. Adam had never seen his Dad cry, not even after his mother's death. Normally Dad just seemed to absorb all his sadness and push it down, becoming only slightly more short-tempered with each experience.

Sam was also keeping an eye on the figure across the room. There had been too many times in his life where his father's gloomy, depressed drunkenness had quickly flipped into a violent, self-hating rage that left him or Dean with bruises for a week. Dean wouldn't be back for several hours, so Sam knew it was up to him to keep a hold on the situation and placate their father until he either gave in to the drink and passed out or finished the handle and went looking for more.

He wasn't sure what happened on the werewolf hunt that had so demolished Dad, but it was seemingly something that was going to take a while to bounce back from. Sam knew better than to ask though and he hoped Adam did as well.

"You boys ought to be focusing on your work," Dad said gruffly without looking up or moving.

Adam's eyes went wide and he glanced at Sam before shamefully looking back down into his notebook. Sam also looked away, remembering that even six sheets to the wind, Dad was still a hunter and would always feel eyes on him.


	16. Just a Bad Hunt - Part 3

John had been staring at the damn notebook all day. He needed to write something. He had a duty to record the events of the hunt, to pass on the information for other hunters and to keep track for himself, but he couldn't bring himself to find the words. Before the boys even got back from school all he had managed to write was the date.

He picked up his pen, letting it hover lightly over the page, feeling choruses of failure, regret, and shame rolling in his head. Each time he tried to find the words to explain what happened, he relived it. The whole month played out in his mind. He searched every moment wondering if there had been another way, something he had missed, something he could have done differently to avoid the outcome he had been forced into. At each reiteration of the memory, he felt more ashamed of himself. If he were a better hunter, a better man, there would have been a different answer. John felt the familiar sensation of self-loathing settling on him like a wet wool sweater, weighing him down and soaking him to the bone.

He set the pen down forcefully on the table, grabbing the handle of whiskey in its place, topping off his emptying glass. Leaning back in the chair he looked over at his boys, sitting quietly on opposite ends of the motel bed, books and papers spread between them.

He was lucky to have them. They were such good boys, all of them. Dean was courageous and confident, infinitely protective of his brothers. Sam, even with his surly teenage attitude, was so smart and compassionate. Adam was still so young, so broken after his mother's death, but he was recovering and becoming the sensitive, determined young man that would have made Kate proud.

Sam could feel eyes on him and glanced up warily, looking away quickly once he met his father's eye. John knew that sometimes he scared the boys when he drank like this. He never meant to. More often than not he would do this type of drinking at a local dive bar, where he could sit in the corner alone and nurse his broken spirit. But after this hunt, he needed to come back here, needed to see the boys. He needed the comfort of their hugs and the hope of redemption in their eyes.

After a while, Adam forgot his father's quiet presence in the room. He focused on his schoolwork, bouncing back and forth between his actual homework and the Latin translations that Sam had given him. It was getting to be the time of day when he started itching for Dean to come home so they could go outside and train. Although Adam never really minded the studying with Sam, the hours of sitting and racking his brain made him restless. Of course, it never bothered Sam, Sam could study forever.

"Ok, done," he said, handing Sam his Latin paper.

Sam nodded, accepting the paper and glancing at it.

"Let's go get something to eat!" Adam said, tossing his books on the bed.

"We just got back from school Adam. We haven't even been at this for two hours," Sam countered, giving his brother an exasperated look.

"So? I'm starving!" Adam said, hopping up from the bed. "Come on Sam! There's nothing here!"

"Nothing?" Dad interjected from his station at the table, "You boys don't have any food here?" he asked, surprise and concern clear in his voice.

Sam was quiet, hesitant on what he could say that wouldn't start them down a precarious path they couldn't come back from.

"Why hasn't Dean gone to the store?" Dad questioned, standing up with a slight sway and walking over to open the two rickety cabinets over the tiny motel room sink.

Sam silently watched his father open and examine the empty cabinets knowing that the entire contents consisted of two coffee mugs and a handful of ketchup packets.

"Sam?" Dad asked again, shutting the cabinets and turning to further interrogate his sons.

Adam glanced between Dad and Sam, watching Sam's carefully guarded, neutral expression.

"We didn't have any money," Adam supplied, hoping he was sparing his brother.

"What? How?" Dad snapped in angry shock, "What happened to the $300 I left you?"

Adam knew it was coming but still grimaced when Sam couldn't hold in his temper and he exploded, jumping up from the bed and yelling at their father.

"Dad! You've been gone for over a month! How far do you think $300 goes?! Come on! Food? Gas? Rent for the room?"

Dad's face flushed a hot red and Adam's heart began to race.

"Don't you speak to me like that boy," He growled at Sam, clenching his fists at his sides.

"We've been fine Dad," Adam said weakly, trying to lessen the escalating tension between his dad and brother.

"What the hell has your brother been doing?" Dad asked angrily to no one, "He's supposed to be taking care of you boys."

"This isn't Dean's fault," Sam sneered, "Why do you think he got a job?"

"I'm not gonna warn you again, Sam. You watch your damn tone." Dad said, staring down his middle son.

Adam watched as Sam scowled and huffed, but seemed to suddenly take note of his father's clenched fists and rigid stance and straightened up into a silent, calm stare. Adam didn't know how Sam did it. He'd seen full-grown men cower and submit under the gaze of John Winchester, but never Sam.

"I wouldn't leave you boys with nothing." Dad said, unclenching his fists and running a hand over the stubble of his three-day old beard, "Dean's got at least three credit cards he could use. What the hell is wrong with that kid?"

Adam knew exactly what was 'wrong' with Dean. Early in his time with his new family, he'd asked Dean for things: video games to kill time in the car, new shoes, walkie-talkies; stupid frivolous things that he never needed but wouldn't mind having. He'd learned pretty quickly that Dean didn't appreciate his constant asking and soon noticed that Sam never asked for anything at all. When he started paying attention he found that Dean only ever bought food for them and gas for his car. Adam knew the Winchesters weren't living the high life, even when Dad  _was_  around, but he also knew that Dean had several fake credit cards. It took some time to get Sam to finally divulge why Dean would ignore the easiest way ever to buy things. It turned out that several years before Adam had joined the family Dean had used one of the fake cards John had left him to buy clothes and school stuff and somehow the situation ended with the police being called about a stolen credit card. Sam was vague on the details, but apparently, Sam and Dean were young enough that police tried to get a hold of John and when they couldn't Child Protective Services was called and the Winchesters had a very close call with becoming part of The System.

Adam could understand Dean's hesitation after that incident. He knew his brother well enough to know that Dean wouldn't have taken that situation lightly and likely vowed never to use a fake card again if there was a chance one of his brothers could get taken away. Although he sympathized with Dean, and damn sure didn't wanna end up in CPS custody, Adam wanted to point out that Dean was 21 now, not a snot-nosed little kid with a credit card. He figured there was a lot less chance of getting caught. Adam wanted to point that out but knew he never would. It would only upset Dean and he'd rather go without than intentionally hurt his brother like that.

So yeah, Adam knew exactly why Dean never used his fake credit cards, but he wasn't about to point all that out to Dad right now.

"We've really been fine Dad," Adam said, trying again to lessen the building tension in the room, "We have lunch at school and Dean always brings home something."

"I'm gonna have a talk with that boy when he gets home," Dad growled, clenching his fists again and looking out the motel room window.

Ice pooled in Adam's stomach with the mention of a 'talk' and he looked over at Sam in desperation. A 'talk' with Dad only meant one thing.

"No…No, Dad I don't think you need to do that," Sam stepped in, his voice calm but tentative.

"Yeah Dad," Adam said, "It's really not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Dad exclaimed suddenly, spinning around to face his younger sons, his face ruddy with a building rage, "Your brother is an adult and more than that he's responsible for you two when I'm not able to be here. What the hell was he thinking? He needs to get his head out of his ass and take some responsibility!"

Adam watched as Sam prepared to yell back in retaliation, but his brother seemed to catch himself and stopped short taking a quick breath before answering calmly, "He does Dad, he really does. Dean is very responsible."

"Doesn't damn well seem like it, leaving you two here to starve!" Dad shot back with a sneer.

"We aren't starving Dad!" Adam said quickly, trying to backtrack.

"You just said you were Adam," Dad said.

"I was just joking around Dad, really. I'm fine, just tired of studying, it's boring," he said hurriedly.

"Boring?" Dad snapped, glaring at his youngest.

Sam flicked his eyes at Adam. ' _Shit'_  Adam thought,  _'That was the wrong thing to say.'_

"Not…not boring," Adam said backpedaling again, "It's just long and uh you know…"

Dad was staring at him irritably, waiting for Adam to get his foot out of his mouth.

"How are those exorcisms coming along?" Dad asked suddenly, his voice low and serious.

Adam bit the inside of his lip in unease. Before Dad left last month, Adam had been told to memorize three long Latin exorcisms as part of his studies on demons. He'd been working on them, but only half-heartedly if he was being honest. Latin was boring and memorizing paragraph after paragraph of words that barely made any sense was miserable. He'd much rather be reading ghost stories with Sam or practicing knife throwing with Dean.

"Good! It's going good." Adam lied hastily.

Dad stood stoically, appraising him, suspicion written all over his face.

"Let's hear it then," he demanded.

"Now?" Adam squeaked in surprise.

Dad just glared back.

"Oh yeah… sure…" Adam said, clearing his throat and trying to remember the first few lines of the main exorcism.

"Exorcizamus te, ah... omnis… i-immundus sprititus…uh…omnis…uh... satanica…"Adam stuttered out, flushing with embarrassment and shame.

"Christ! Is Sam teaching you anything?" Dad snarled furiously.

"He is!" Adam shot back immediately, rushing to his brother's defense.

"He knows this stuff Dad," Sam said stepping in, "He just gets nervous when you put him on the spot."

"He needs to get the hell over that," Dad mumbled, staring at his youngest.

Sam glared at his father angrily. He knew this interrogation would go on until Dad found something to pounce on, something he could exploit and use as an excuse to throw a punch. It was like a verbal minefield, every word could trigger the explosion and Adam was too inexperienced to be able to get himself out of it.

"And your pronunciation is shit," Dad said, turning back around to grab the whiskey bottle off the motel table.

"Well it's a dead language, " Adam replied sarcastically, his hackles rising at being demeaned and embarrassed.

Dad spun back around, wavering slightly with the quick movement, glaring at Adam.

"Excuse me?" he said, thud echoing in the room as he set the whiskey bottle back on the table behind him.

Adam's annoyance evaporated immediately as he noticed the dangerous tone in his father's voice. He'd heard it before, aimed at his older brothers and he realized too late should've kept his mouth shut.

"Are you disrespecting me boy?" John said, taking a small but menacing step toward the 12-year-old.

"N-N-No Sir," Adam replied quickly, hating the waiver in his voice.

Adam moved closer to Sam, who had taken a step towards his younger brother and was now poised slightly in front of Adam, his entire 16-year-old lanky frame strumming with tension.

"You know I don't tolerate disrespect," Dad growled, from across the room.

Adam nodded vigorously in agreement, hoping that he could placate the man and get out of his sight.

"Can't hear your head rattle, boy," John said, eyeing him.

"Yes sir, I know." Adam voiced meekly.

Sam stayed positioned in front of Adam, waiting for the next turn of the conversation. Dad would either go back to the bottle and let Adam's teenage insolence slide or he'd begin the quiz again and keep laying traps for the kid to fall into.

' _God, why couldn't you just go to a bar?'_  Sam thought to himself. Sam was not unfamiliar with this level of John Winchester drunkenness, but picking Dad up off the floor of a dive bar at 3 am was so much easier than going head to head with him in this state. At least at the bar, he'd find any number of people willing to provoke him into a semi-justifiable fight. Here, he was rooting around for a problem, some tiny semblance of disobedience that he could take advantage of.

"Hunting is serious." Dad ground out, glaring at Adam, "Exorcisms are serious. You need to know this shit. You understand me boy?"

"Uh-huh, Yes sir," Adam replied nodding again quickly.

"You have to know this shit inside and out! You have to know every part of the lore, be willing to work to find the answer! If you get lazy, if you give up, people die!" he yelled.

"Dad. I know," Adam said, his stomach churning in apprehension, "You say that all the time."

"Do you know what I mean when I say 'people die' Adam? Do you realize that one day you could be responsible for ending someone's life? That their blood will literally be on your hands?" Dad questioned darkly, slowly walking over to the boys who were standing as still as stone.

"If you don't learn  _everything_ you can about hunting you can count on it. You can count on having to kill not only monsters but people. People who you can't save and people who can't live."

"Jesus Dad." Sam whispered from beside him, "What happened on the hunt?"

John was silent then, ignoring Sam's question and staring down at Adam, not seeing the face of his son, but the face of the boy from the hunt. The boy before he'd turned before John had to do what he did.

Tears of shame and regret welled up in his eyes, burning them.

"Dad?" Sam whispered again, reaching out tentatively to put a comforting hand on his father's arm, "It was just a bad hunt. You can't save everyone."

As he felt Sam's gentle touch on his forearm, something inside John broke. He could feel the visceral snap of the rubber band in his ribcage that was holding in all the hurt, pain, humiliation and disgrace that had been building since the hunt. He backhanded Sam on instinct; watching from outside himself as his son's head was thrown violently to the side and he stumbled, nearly falling back onto the dingy motel room carpet.

His emotions blinded him and John saw himself reaching out and grabbing a fist full of Adam's shirt, landing solid smack to the boy's right cheek and shaking him hard enough that he heard the kid's teeth click together.  _'Why!?'_  His brain yelled,  _'I tried!'_

Sam was on him in an instant, clawing at the fist John had wrapped in Adam's thin t-shirt, trying to free his younger brother. A hot pulse of anger burst through John's chest and he let Adam go with a shove, sending the boy flying backward into one of the room's double beds and in the same motion, turned and threw a sharp right hook into Sam's cheek, sending him shooting sideways.

The power of the blow shocked John as much as it did his sons, who were now each sitting motionless on the floor, their chests rising and falling rapidly, warily watching their father. John could feel the rage still burning in his veins, mixing with the whiskey in his gut, creating a white-hot frenzy that he fought to control.

He watched distantly, feeling disconnected from his own body, as Sam stood up slowly from the floor, dusting himself off and working his jaw loose from the pain that was still radiating. Sam walked over to Adam, putting a hand down to help his brother up before turning to directly face John, a dark and dangerous look in his young eyes.

"You know what? Fuck it. Come on old man." Sam said brazenly.

"Excuse me, boy?" John questioned, not sure he believed what he just heard. He was sure that none of his sons were stupid enough to challenge him outright, to experiment with his ability to hand out a smackdown.

"You heard me," Sam pressed on, chest puffed out and head held high, "Come on. You wanna fight? Let's go!" he challenged again, stepping away from Adam and into the middle of the hotel room.

"I don't know what you think-" John started.

"I know what I think," Sam spat out viciously, his voice thick with disgust, "I think someone got hurt, maybe killed on the hunt. I think you hate yourself for it and you won't be able to get past it until you put your fist through someone's teeth. So come on."

"You shut the hell up boy," John snarled back dangerously, feeling the burn of rage in his chest sending adrenaline shooting through his body, making his arms tingle with restrained fury.

"No Dad!" Sam shouted back "Why not? You already hit Adam. You afraid of someone who might fight back?"

Suddenly the figures before him were a blur and Adam found himself thrown backward again this time landing hard against the corner of the motel room dresser. In one extended graceful movement, Sam had managed to push Adam back, further away from Dad and the explosion of violence, while evading the first powerful punch that was headed his way.

Sam dodged and ducked under John's swing, coming up with a formidable punch of his own that landed solidly in John's stomach, causing Dad to let out a grunt of surprise and pain. Adam watched in shock as he scrambled up from where he had fallen on the floor, ignoring the shooting pain between his shoulder blades. Sam seemed similarly stunned that he was able to so easily land the blow and he hesitated slightly, the fury that was billowing off him lapsing.

Sam surprised himself. He never knew that he would actually hit his father if given a chance. Oh, he'd fantasized about it plenty of times, sure. Every time Dad scowled at him or talked down to Dean or belittled Adam. Sam wanted to punch the five o'clock shadow right of Dad's overbearing 'need to know' face. But he'd never imaged he'd do it. It was a gut reaction. He'd made the challenge. He couldn't stop himself. He could only tolerate Dad's drunken bullshit for so long before he snapped.

The fleeting moment of Sam's hesitation was all John needed to gain back the upper hand. With a startling swiftness, he reached out, grabbing Sam by the upper arm and yanking him hard, causing Sam to cry out and crumble in his hold. The next movement was a hard punch that knocked the wind out of his son, causing Sam to fold in on himself, gasping.

Sam's gasps for air startled Adam into movement and he flew into motion, rushing his father aiming to knock him off balance like Dean had taught him. Adam knew he was small, but he hoped he could surprise Dad enough that he'd let Sam loose.

Adam hit hard, low around his father's hips, causing John to take a slightly stumbled step to the side. Sam twisted in John's grip using the stumble to fight to get free, lining up a hard kick to Dad's shin, causing Dad to swear loudly and loosen his hold. Sam pulled free but was only able to get half a step away before Dad reached out, grabbing a fist full of his hair, twisting and pulling Sam back toward him.

With Sam in one hand and using the other to grab Adam by the scruff of the neck he

knocked both boy's heads together with a resounding crack that echoed in the tiny room.

Adam immediately saw stars and couldn't focus, his head throbbing and spinning, ears ringing loudly the sound and the pain so fierce he wanted to throw up.

When his vision finally cleared, he realized his father's hand was still fisted in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping him tightly. Hesitantly, Adam looked at his father, finding a strange look on Dad's face. All the rage was gone. Tears were welling up in his eyes and his bottom lip was quivering just slightly, and Adam could see the despair washing over him.

Suddenly the hand in his hair was gone and Adam was pulled into a crushing hug, his face squeezed hard against the buttons of his father's flannel shirt, his brother squished in tightly beside him. Adam could feel, rather than hear, the sobs that were wracking Dad's body and decided to keep completely motionless unsure of what the hell was going on. His head was throbbing, there was a shooting pain coming from between his shoulder blades and his cheek was still stinging and but he was too afraid to pull away from the discomfort of Dad's arms. Tentatively moving his free right hand, he reached for Sam, brushing his fingers against his brother's wondering Sam could telepath what they should do.

Suddenly John collapsed, pulling both boys down with him, his hold on them never wavering. He clung to them, squeezing them tightly as if they were the tiny toddlers who used to climb up in his lap and ask for stories, not the long-limbed growing teenagers who'd nearly bested him in a fight. He kept their faces hidden, pressed to his chest, not wanting them to see his weakness, the tears silently streaming down his face, not ready to see the damaged he had caused.

The three stayed frozen on the floor until John steadied himself, regaining a tenuous hold on his emotions. Releasing his sons from his arms slowly, he didn't miss how they fled the second they could. How they scrambled back and away from him as if he was a monster to be feared, not a father to be loved.

Sam had his arm out and around Adam the moment he was free, pulling his younger brother back and behind him, just in case. Sam knew the fight was over. Whatever Dad needed to get out was gone, but he was wary.

"My boys," Dad whispered his eyes filling with renewed tears as he looked at their faces, seeing the bruises he had caused rising.

Sam and Adam were silent, still sitting on the floor backs pressed hard against the motel bed, waiting for Dad's next move.

"My sweet boys," Dad whispered wretchedly, staring at them, the words sounding almost like an apology.

Neither boy moved or said a word, still waiting to see what their father's next move would be.

John took a deep breath, determined to get back in control. Clearing his throat loudly he stood up shakily from the floor, straightening his crumbled flannel shirt.

"I.. uh. I'm gonna get you boys some ice," he said, his eyes only briefly resting on their uncertain faces. He turned then, grateful not to have to look at them and moved quickly out the door, hopeful that by the time he returned the look of fear and resentment would have faded from their eyes.

As soon as the door closed Sam moved his arm from around Adam's shoulder, turning his younger brother to face him.

"Are you ok?" he asked, searching Adam's face for signs of any more severe trauma that he may have missed.

"I'm ok," Adam said, nodding slightly and moving a hand up to touch the tender spot on the side of his forehead where he and Sam and hit. "My head freaking hurts,"

Sam sighed, "Yeah me too," he said rubbing the throbbing pain in his temple.

"You sure you're ok Sam?" Adam asked, looking up at his brother curiously.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Sam said, brushing Adam off and standing up, reaching down to pull his brother up as well. "Let's get some aspirin."

All too soon Dad was back from getting ice, his guilt and regret over the afternoon abundantly and awkwardly clear. For the next hour, Adam watched as Dad fussed over them, in the most Dad-like way possible. Creating cool towels with melting ice in them, which he insisted they hold on their heads, even though neither brother wanted it. Offering them some of the 'good' pain meds and even telling them to take the afternoon off from studying while he ordered a pizza for dinner. The whole thing just made Adam uncomfortable.

After the pizza arrived Dad finally seem satisfied with his efforts and sat down on the bed to finish off the bottle of whiskey that he had discarded earlier.

Adam kept a wary eye on his father as he and Sam sat on the other bed, disinterestedly eating the pizza Dad got them and watching reruns of Knight Rider on the motel's crappy tv. By the time their portion of the pizza was gone, Dad was passed out and snoring and Adam breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam heard his sigh and gave his little brother a half-hearted smile, sliding over on the bed, making room against the headboard where he was sitting and giving Adam a nod to come sit beside him. Adam returned the weak smile and moved from the end of the bed, scooting up closer to his brother, trying not to think about the fact that he was almost 13 and shouldn't be cuddling anymore and that Dean would probably make fun of him for it. He didn't even care. He needed it after this afternoon. He just wanted to feel quiet and safe for a little while, even if it did make him look like a baby.

When Dean came home an hour later Adam and Sam were still laying on the bed, slumped against their collective mound of pillows, the open pizza box on the bed between them, Dad snoring and grumbling on the other bed.

"I'm back and I brought pie!" Dean said happily, stepping into the room and raising his bag of takeout and pie triumphantly. Dean was having a good day, not only did he bring home pie, but also the hot cashier's phone number and with any luck, he'd be seeing her tonight after Adam's training session, definitely a good day in his book.

Instantly sensing the weight in the room, however, Dean tensed, scanning his family for the cause of the uneasiness. He crossed the room in two long strides, coming to stand beside Sam as he and Adam sat up, Adam wincing with the movement

"What the hell?" Dean declared, "What happened? Are you ok?" he said taking Sam's chin in hand and gently tilting his brother's head to examine the purple bruising lining his jaw.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, letting Dean turn his head and examine him, softly touching just under his eye where Sam knew another bruise had bloomed.

"What happened?" Dean asked again, leaning over to gently brush Adam's hair from his forehead, studying his youngest brother.

"Bad hunt," Sam answered simply, staring at Dean in a way that Adam understood meant more than what was said.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Dean growled.

"He was already drunk when we got home from school." Adam offered, making Dean scowl as he examined Adam's face.

"You hurt anywhere else kid?" Dean asked.

Adam shrugged, feeling the ache between his shoulders again but not wanting to seem weak in front of Dean.

"It's ok Adam," Sam assured.

"Nah, I'm ok," Adam said, deciding that whatever big ass bruise he had on his back wasn't worth bothering Dean about.

Dean nodded tightly, a frown etched deeply on his face.

"Sam?" he asked, turning to face his middle brother.

"I'm alright. Just sore." He admitted.

"Fuck," Dean said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell."

Dean sat down heavily on the bed next to his brothers, putting his head in his hands and rubbing his head roughly.

"Shit guys. I'm sorry. I should have been here." He said, not looking at them.

"It's not your fault Dean," Sam said softly.

"I messed up the exorcism," Adam confessed sadly.

"What?" Dean said confused, sitting up and turning to look back at him.

"I messed it up. Dad wanted me to recite the exorcisms I was supposed to learn while he was gone and I couldn't." Adam said, guilt churning in his stomach as he looked away from his older brother's incredulous stare. "I should have studied better. I'm so stupid."

"Adam." Sam said, his tone firm enough to cause Adam to look up at him, "This was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you. Dad had a bad hunt. That's all. We were just in the cross-fire."

Dean nodded, "Look squirt, this one ain't on you ok?"

Adam just stared at his brothers, not convinced that he wasn't the tipping point of the whole mess. If he had just studied harder and been able to recite the stupid exorcisms Dad wouldn't have flown off the handle. If he had kept his big stupid mouth shut about being hungry, none of this would have ever happened.

Dean sighed again, standing up from the bed.

"You guys need anything? Pain meds? Dinner?"

Sam shook his head, "Nah. Dad guilt fed us before he passed out."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, walking back over to the motel room table where he had set down the food he'd brought home.

"Well I brought home burgers if you get hungry," he said, taking out a burger and sitting down in the chair, "What's on?" he said with a nod to the television set.

Hours later Sam and Adam had gone to bed, but Dean was still awake. Sitting on the bed next to his father, staring down at the man as he grumbled and snored in a drunken sleep.

' _What the fuck is wrong with you old man?'_  he thought to himself.

Dad's 'bad hunts' didn't happen often. In fact, Dean was probably around Adam's age the last time that Dad had come home so damaged. But even with it being so long ago the memory was vivid; the fists flying, being thrown into walls, pushing Sam into the bathroom. Dean's pulse raced with the remembered fear, the fear Dad might not stop this time.

"De- Dean?"

Dean was shaken from his thoughts by the garbled mumbling from beside him.

"Yeah Dad?" he replied in a quiet whisper, not wanting to wake his brothers.

"Dean. Oh, Dean. It was so bad." Dad mumbled weakly, not quite awake and still very drunk.

"I know Dad, " Dean consoled calmly, "I know."

"I tried. I did." Dad continued on, slurring, "Oh Dean, he was so young… so young."

Normally Dean never needed to know what happened on a hunt. Dad's simple explanations were enough and he never felt the need to press for more. But this time he couldn't help it, he wanted to know, needed to know, what could have made Dad lose it so badly, especially when he wasn't here to protect his brothers.

"Dad? What happened?" Dean asked softly.

"Oh Dean," Dad said, slurring and beginning to sob, "I had to Dean. I looked and I waited. I tried. I tried everything. But I had to. Dean, I had to. I couldn't let him turn," Dad said, tears beginning to stream down his face.

Seeing his father cry, Dean felt his chest tighten and he regretted ever asking. There were some things he didn't need to know, things he didn't need to see and his father crying into his pillow was one of them.

"Dad, its ok. Its ok," Dean soothed, gently rubbing Dad's shoulder hoping he'd stop crying and fall back asleep. "You're ok,"

Eventually, Dad fell back asleep, still crying but at least quietly, and Dean was grateful for the peace. He loved his Dad. The man had been through some serious shit and kept coming out on the other side alive and fighting. There were so many ways that Dean idolized his father. He knew it. He was ok with being 'daddy's little soldier', but there were times, times like these when he saw the fallout from too much trauma and it made Dean a little fearful of hunting. He'd never admit it. He'd never say it out loud. But he wondered if he too would end up traumatized, disturbed and desensitized to the violence of his world. Would he end up drinking away his memories in hopes of living with his present? Would he find himself demanding more from himself, from his family then was possible? Was this his future? And if it was, was that ok?

Dean sat in the dark, awake and alone for a long time, thinking about his father and their lives, before deciding that he was just thinking too much. ' _Too much like Sam.'_  He scoffed, making himself get up to brush his teeth, shrugging off the weighty thoughts like an old itchy blanket.


	17. Learning the Ropes - Part 1

_Timeline- This story takes place in the late fall before Sam goes to college (although no one in the family yet knows his plans) 13-year-old Adam has been with the Winchesters for over a year at this point and is hunting, training and going to school._

Adam startled at the sound of the motel room door handle clicking open and snapped off his Game Boy, shoving it under the pillow behind him and pretending to be deeply enthralled by the open book of supernatural lore in front of him. He glanced over at Sam who was at the tiny motel room table to see his brother give him a half-hearted eye roll.

"Hey boys!" Dad said as he and Dean walked into the room, tossing two bags of supplies on the floor next to the motel bed where Adam was sitting.

"What'd you get?" Adam questioned enthusiastically, jumping up from the bed to peer down into the bags.

"Nun-ya!" Dean said laughing, coming from behind his father to put Adam in a headlock before using his weight to throw them both down backward onto the bed.

"Dean!" Adam screeched, scrambling out from Dean's hold and throwing an elbow in his brother's ribs for good measure.

Dean gave an "Umph" at the retaliation, but chuckled and let his younger brother losoe allowing Adam to hop off the bed once more and reach down for the bags.

Adam grabbed the first bag and threw it up on the bed to investigate. He shuffled through the groceries Dad and Dean had brought back looking for anything interesting.

"Hey!" John said, noticing Adam digging through the bag, "Don't crush the bread!"

"Sam look!" Adam said "Twinkies!"

"Yeah, and they're mine!" Dean said, swiping the box from Adam's hand and holding it out of his younger brother's reach.

"Dean!" Adam whined, trying to reach around Dean to grab the box, really only a little annoyed. Over the summer he and Dean had finally come to an understanding and since then Dean had been relishing breaking in Adam's new little brother status. When they weren't hunting or training, Dean was making it his life's goal to tease Adam in any way he could.

"Dean…" their father reprimanded gently, more for Adam's benefit than anything.

"Fine." Dean said yielding and putting the box within Adam's reach, "But only one each for you little twerps," he said nodding towards Sam.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the comment and went back to his computer.

"What's this bag then?" Adam questioned, leaning over to pick the other bag off the floor and place it on the bed. Opening it he shuffled through the contents becoming confused.

"Rope? Duct Tape? Zip ties?" He asked, looking up at his father for an explanation.

"Yeah," John said, shrugging off his coat and throwing onto the motel bed behind Adam and Dean, "I realized that we haven't practice escape methods with you yet Adam."

"Seriously Dad?" Sam moaned from the table.

"Yes seriously, Sammy," Dad answered not looking at his middle son. "Adam, I know you've been practicing knots with Dean. So now we are gonna put some of that training to use."

Dad walked over to where Dean and Adam were sitting on the bed and reached into the brown paper bag between them pulling out a wrapped length of coarse brown rope.

"Escape is one of the most important things I could teach you. If you are ever caught you have to be able to get out and get out quick," he said, beginning to unspool the rope in front of Adam.

Adam didn't know why but his stomach gave a little roll at the sight of the rope and he felt uneasiness begin to build in his chest. He eyed the rope in his father's hands skeptically. It was innocent enough, just a plain brown rope, one that looked it would be used to tie up horses or something.

"This is what we are gonna practice with today," Dad said, holding out the rope for Adam to touch, "Its hemp rope. I'm sure you and Dean have used it practicing your knots."

True enough Dean had made Adam learn to tie and untie knots with just about every kind of rope there was. Dean was pretty damn thorough with all the training he put Adam through and he took it just as seriously as Dad did.

"There are a few techniques you can use to help you escape if you are ever going to be tied up. Sammy, hop up and let me use that chair," Dad said, motioning over to Sam.

Sam stood up reluctantly but didn't comment and handed the chair over to his father. Dad grabbed it and set it down in front of Adam and patted the seat.

"Sit here," he said.

Adam hesitated to follow the order, already feeling nervous about this particular training exercise.

"I'm not gonna tie you up. Just sit so I can show you what to do." Dad said calmly.

Adam slowly stood up and moved to sit in the chair, wishing there was something he could think of to say or do to get out of this training. Normally he liked all the hunter's training that Dean and Dad were teaching him. He wasn't great with the weapons, but he was getting better and he loved the badass feeling he got whenever he got it right. But this rope stuff was already making him uncomfortable and they hadn't even done anything yet.

"Ok, first thing," Dad said, pulling Adam's focus back to the task at hand. "If you are being tied to a chair like this one, you need to create as much slack as possible in the rope. So, slump in the chair or arch your lower back. Anything you can do to create space for yourself."

Dad stood behind Adam and clasped his hands strongly around his upper arms. "If a rope is being tied around you, take in a big breath and puff out your chest," he continued.

Dad then moved his hands down, grasping one of Adam's wrists in each hand and pulling them around to his back behind the chair. Adam felt his pulse begin to race and his chest tighten at being restrained.

"If your wrists or arms are being tied, tense your muscles and try to pull your arms apart. It's all about forcing them to use more rope than necessary. Then when they leave or are distracted, you can relax and you'll have enough slack in the ropes to get free. Most of the time the thing tying you up is not any sort of professional, so use that to your advantage."

"Yeah, so get free and kick it in the ass," Dean interjected.

Adam nodded vigorously, trying to his best to take mental notes and remember all the things he had to do. He'd forgotten how hard training with Dad could be. Unlike Dean or Sam, Dad would rattle off orders and instructions and expect Adam to remember them instantaneously and was always irritated about having to repeat himself. Adam was petrified of embarrassing himself in front of his father. The last thing he wanted to do was forget any of the critical instructions Dad gave him and fail. He wished he could stop and write all this stuff down. He always did better if he could write it down and look at it again later. Sam was always happy to let Adam take any kind of notes he wanted, even in the middle of training. And Dean never got mad or impatient about having to show Adam more than once how to do something. Even when he was first starting out and couldn't even hold a knife the correct way, Dean would show him over and over and correct him, which Adam was thankful for, even if  _was_  being called dumbass the whole time.

Adam felt Dad's tight hold release his wrists and watched as his father came around to stand in front of him. He motioned for Adam's hands once more, which Adam obediently held out for him, trying to squash the fear beginning to roll in his belly.

"Having your hands tied in front of you is the best circumstance you can hope for," he said, taking a tight grip around Adam's wrists again. "Try to appear compliant. Stick out your arms, but point your elbows outward, there just like that," he said, moving Adam's elbows out to demonstrate. "That lets you put tension on the ropes, makes a space between your wrists and give you some slack to work with. Even if you can only get a half inch of slack in the rope, it will be enough for you to get free."

"Ok," Adam said, nodding and twisting his wrists in his Dad's vice-like grip.

"Good," Dad said, nodding to him. "You just twist your wrists opposite each other and pull and you should be able to loosen the rope enough to pull it over your hand. Use your teeth if you have to, ok?"

Adam nodded again, sensing the tightness in his chest again and aware that he was already straining a little under his father's tight grip.

"Sam you wanna show him?" Dad asked releasing Adam and looking behind him.

Sam scoffed but before he could get out the sarcastic remark that Adam knew was burning in his throat Dean spoke up.

"I'll do it Dad," he said from his spot on the bed where he had been watching Dad's instruction intently.

Dad nodded and sat down next to Dean on the bed. Dean dutifully put out his arms for his father and Adam watched with sickening interest as Dad wound the ropes around his brother's wrists.

"See Dean's arms?" Dad asked, drawing Adam's attention away from the rope to Dean's straining arms, muscles flexed hard.

Adam nodded again, his throat too dry for words.

Dad finished tying the rope and nodded at Dean "Go ahead son."

Dean immediately went to work. He started twisting his wrists and pulling at the ropes in what looked like a pretty painful way, but if it hurt Dean never let on. He was intently focused. Adam watched closely as Dean was able to pull the rope loose enough that he could use his teeth to slide up one of the ropes over the joint of this thumb and off his hand. It seemed like only seconds later that Dean was able to loosen the rest of the rope and untie himself completely, looking up at Adam with a wide Cheshire cat grin.

"See kid? Easy," he smirked.

Adam just stared back feeling sweaty, sick and unsure. He tried to sneak a deep breath to calm down, not wanting Dean or Dad to know just how freaked out this little training exercise was making him.

"Just stay calm Adam," Dad said, noting the fear Adam was trying so desperately to hide, "Panic will only make it harder to get free."

Adam gave an embarrassed nod unable to meet his father's eye; afraid of the disapproval he might see there. He hated when Dad knew how afraid this new life made him. He wanted to be as tough and unafraid of the rest of the Winchesters, but he had a nagging fear he'd never measure up.

"Alright Adam, you ready to give it shot?" Dad asked.

Adam could feel his father's eyes studying him, searching him for something, but ignored the probing looks and continued to stare at the carpet, wishing he could be somewhere else.

"Dad," Sam piped up from behind him, "I'll go."

Adam breathed a tiny sigh of relief and gratitude that Sam had noticed his discomfort and offered himself up, despite his perpetual hatred of all their father's training. Adam didn't look up from his intense study of the motel carpet fibers but watched from the corner of his eye as Sam walked over to stand in front of their father; arms outstretched waiting for his turn with the ropes.

"Adam, watch closely" Dad ordered, taking Sam up on his offer and forcing Adam to look up from the floor.

Adam grit his teeth and made himself to watch as Dad wrapped the rope around Sam's wrists, pulling tightly on the final knot.

"Alright, go."

Just like Dean, Sam pulled and twisted against the ropes slowly working them loose enough that he could pull on them. He wasn't as fast as Dean had been, but it seemed like no time at all before he was completely untied and handing the rope over to his father.

"Did you see how calm Sam was Adam?" Dad asked, taking the rope from Sam and nodding at him to take a seat on the other motel room bed.

"Yes sir," Adam choked out, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans.

He knew it was his turn now. His mind raced to find any excuse that might get him out of this.

Time seemed to slow as he watched his father move toward him, rough brown rope in hand. Adam tried to breathe, but there was no air. He scrunched his eyes shut trying to stop the blackness that was clouding the edges of his vision.

"Adam?"

He heard his name called, but it sounded very far away. Adam knew his eyes were still clenched shut but he was focusing on every piece of biology he had learned to keep himself from passing out.

' _It's just fear. You are fine. You are gonna be fine. You are not going to pass out. You can breathe. Take a breath. Breathe. There. Breathe again.' he chanted internally._

When he opened his eyes the scene in front of him hadn't changed. Dad still stood in front of him rope in hand. Dean was sitting on the bed behind Dad, watching Adam, Sam was leaning against the headboard of the other bed, absently playing with some zip ties his eyes intently scrutinizing their father.

"Dad I…I… uh" Adam stammered, trying to force his voice not to wobble. "Maybe I should study the knots more before doing this."

"Adam, you're knotwork is fine. This is the next lesson." Dad said, no sympathy in his voice.

_Shit_. He did not want to do this. He really, really did not want to do this. Why didn't he want to do this? Sam and Dean were fine with it. Yeah, it was messed up for your own Dad to tie you to a chair, but logically he knew there was a reason behind it. That one day being able to escape from being tied up could save his life. But damn, he really, really didn't want to do it now.

Dad didn't seem to notice Adam's inner turmoil, or if he did he ignored it. Before Adam could get out the words of his next protest Dad had lifted his wrists from his lap and started winding the rope around them.

The second the rope touched his arms Adam knew why he hated this. It was a visceral, physical memory that hit him like a punch to the gut and stole all the air from his lungs. Uncontrollably his mind flashed. Bright, blinding visions of his mother, the ghouls, and his own bloody arms rushed at him. The feeling of coarse ropes holding him down. The sounds of screams. His own. His mother's. The coppery smell that filled the air and made his stomach roll.

"No!" he screamed, shooting up from the chair, shoving away his father's hands and the half tied rope.

Adam rushed backward, tripping over his own feet trying to get away and landing on the rough, uneven motel carpeting

"Adam!" Dad shouted, startled.

"What the hell?" Dean said, standing up.

"No. No. No." Adam chanted, frozen on the floor, the visions of trauma still haunting him too clearly. Again Adam turned himself inward, trying to breathe and take control of his body and his mind. He didn't even notice that Dean had crossed the room and was next to him, until he was being gently lifted off the ground.

When Adam finally came back to himself he found he was sitting on one of the motel beds, leaning on a stack of pillows. Sam was on the bed next to him, Dean pulled up in a chair on the other side and Dad was sitting on the end of the bed near his feet. Each of them wore the exact same look of worry and shock.

"Sorry," Adam mumbled, embarrassed and ashamed.

"Son?" Dad questioned gently "What was that?"

Adam couldn't meet Dad's eyes and couldn't answer his question. The last thing he wanted to do was remember again. He didn't even know he  _did_ remember some of that stuff. Until now, he'd been happy that his brain had chosen to black out most of his mother's death. He intentionally never thought about it. The only glimpses that he knew of appeared in his nightmares and truthfully it was easier to believe the whole thing was a nightmare.

"Adam?" Dad questioned again, his voice still soft "Was it….?"

The question hung in the air between them, adding weight to the already heavy room.

Adam gave a tiny nod, feeling unwanted tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Wait? What?" Dean asked suddenly from beside him.

"Dude." Sam chided, then mouthed the word 'Mom'.

"Oh," Dean said flatly.

"Alright," Dad said patting Adam's leg and standing up. "We're done for the day. Let's get out of here and get some fresh air."

Adam gave a huge sigh of relief, which earned a small weak smile from his father. He began to feel the horrible fear that had been plaguing him from the moment he set eyes on the ropes start to dissipate. His stomach was still clenched and the tremor of fear and shock was still pulsating through his veins, but at least he could breathe a little now.

"Get your shoes on boys, let's go for a jog."

He couldn't hide the grimace that crept up on his face at the idea of another run today, but he'd gladly run a 100 miles if it meant he didn't have to get tied up. Even Sam didn't start an argument about the extra run, just grabbed Adam's shoes as he picked up his own and tossed them at his younger brother.


	18. Learning the Ropes- Part 2

Two days later they were still stuck in the same tiny town. Dad was reading the papers and waiting on calls. Bobby supposedly had a lead on a nasty monster two states over that needed ganking, but he hadn't called yet so the Winchesters were biding their time.

After breakfast, Adam had been hoping that he and his brothers would be allowed to drive to the next town over to see a movie. They'd already done their morning PT and since it was Saturday they had plenty of time to do all their other training and chores before dark. If Dean were in charge Adam knew they'd be able to go. But he wasn't. Dad was home. And things were different when Dad was home.

Adam was just finishing helping Sam wash the cereal bowls when Dad spoke up.

"Ok boys," he said calling for their attention. "We're gonna do escape training again today."

Immediately Adam felt the world tip sideways and his stomach roll.

' _Don't pass out. Don't pass out.'_  He repeated to himself.

"Dad! You're not serious!" Sam asked in outrage.

"Yes. I'm serious Sam." Dad said impassively as he laid out the duct tape, zip ties and old brown rope across the motel bed. "Come here, Adam."

Adam had frozen to the spot. He didn't think he could move even one muscle to follow his father's order. His entire body was coiled in tension. He had hoped that Dad had given him a pass on escape training after what happened. He'd had nightmares every night since ones so bad that he woke up to Dean shaking him awake mid-scream.

"Adam," Dad warned quietly.

Despite his reluctance, the tone of the warning kick-started his muscle memory and Adam found himself standing beside his father before he was conscious of his own movement.

"I know what happened on Thursday and I'm sorry that I didn't expect it. Had I known…" Dad trailed off, "Anyway, regardless of that, this is still a skill you need to learn," he said picking up the rope.

Adam's chest tightened at the sight of the rope and his palms began to sweat.

"I understand your fear. That's normal. But you have to overcome it," Dad continued on, grasping one of Adam's hands and placing the rope in it.

Adam tried to pull away, to drop the rope, but Dad's hand on his own held him firm. Just touching the rough old rope again was enough to make the panic rise in his chest.

"Dad. No. You can't do this!" Sam protested, coming to stand behind Adam ready to fight.

"Dad? Really?" Dean pleaded from across the room, "He's just a kid."

Adam felt Dad's grip tighten and he looked up into his father's eyes to see a deep sorrow that he recognized but didn't quite understand.

"No Dean. He's not. He's a hunter."

Silence filled the room and the weight that had fallen on them before returned.

"Adam." Dad said, his voice unusually soft and gentle, "You  _are_  a hunter now son. You have to learn this. You have to learn to control your fear and your mind."

Adam nodded seriously, feeling the gravity of the hunter life anew. Even after a year of living with his new family, even after months of hunting, he was still shocked at how hard and horrible this life could be.

"I..uh..how? How can I not be scared?" he asked sincerely.

"Practice," Dad answered plainly. "You get used to something and it becomes normal. We are gonna practice tying you up and letting you escape until you aren't scared until you can do it as easily as reading a book."

Adam's stomach clenched and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the bile from rising in this throat. Dad was gonna make him do this. Make him do it over and over and over.

"Ok, let's get started. Arms out Adam." Dad said, pulling up Adam's hand and holding his arm out expectantly for the other.

"Already?" Adam squeaked.

"Dad, maybe we should give him some more time to practice," Sam bargained, moving closer to his little brother.

"What do you think this is Sam? Does this look like playtime to you?" Dad snapped back.

"No sir, but..."

"Quiet. Your brother needs to focus." Dad snapped again.

In spite of his tone, Dad was gentle when he took Adam's wrists in his own hands, guiding him to hold the coarse binding in his palms. Adam's chest was tight with fear and his hands felt slick against the roughness of the rope.

"This is just rope," Dad coached, leaning down to look Adam in the eye. "You are in control and you can control your reaction. Stay calm."

Adam swallowed hard, trying to take his father's words to heart. Dad waited until Adam was able to give him a little nod and then began to slowly wrap the ropes around Adam's wrists.

"What should you be doing now?" Dad asked, still winding the ropes.

"Uhh…" Adam mumbled. He honestly had no clue. It was all he could do to remember to breathe. His chest was so tight, his pulse was racing and blood was pounding loudly in his ears.

"Find a way to calm down Adam," Dad said slowly.

Adam knew that his father was trying to be patient, trying to be helpful, but just being told to calm down wasn't any help at all.

Suddenly he felt a hot whisper in his ear from behind "Count." Sam reminded him.

Adam took his mind off the ropes just long enough to remember the counting thing Sam had taught him so long ago.  _In through the nose, count to three, out._  He chanted to himself as he distantly felt his father knot the rope tight against his wrists.

"Ok Adam," Dad said, moving away, "Get out of the ropes."

Adam stared down at his hands, feeling the stiffness of the ropes, the pressure around his wrists. He didn't move, feeling frozen in shock.

"Adam." Dad called sharply, waking him from his state "Get… out…of the… ropes," he said, drawing out each word.

Adam nodded, fighting the feelings that were threatening to overcome him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or throw up, but he knew neither would be acceptable to John Winchester.

He focused hard on the ropes, ignoring how hard it was to breathe right now and all the little black spots that were beginning to cloud his vision. He looked closely for the knot that Dad had tied. He couldn't see it, so it must be on the underside of his wrists, probably just a regular square knot, he figured. He pulled against the ropes. What did Sam do? He couldn't remember. He pulled again, straining. Shit. How did Dean do this? Now his breath was coming too fast again, too shallow. The black spots in his vision were filling in and he was feeling light-headed and wobbly. He fought to stay upright, pulling hard again against the ropes begging them to break and set him free.

"Stop," Dad ordered harshly, grabbing Adam's wrists and stopping his struggle.

Adam blinked slowly, begging his mind to let some air back into his body so he didn't pass out. He didn't even see the blade, only caught a glimpse of silver before the ropes were suddenly cut and his wrists were immediately released. The feeling of freedom was so sudden and so overwhelming that Adam momentarily lost his tight hold on his body and felt himself go a little weak in the knees. Thankfully Sam was still right behind him and steadied his younger brother.

"Jesus kid," Dean whispered in awe from where he was sitting on one of the motel beds.

Adam felt himself blush deeply and jerked his arm away from Sam's gentle hold. He looked back to see Dad rubbing a hand across his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Ok…" he said thoughtfully, "Ok…I think we are gonna have to start slow with you Adam.

"No shit." Adam heard Sam whisper from behind him.

Over the next two weeks, Dad focused on making Adam hold ropes. Adam couldn't believe that only a few weeks ago he had worked with Dean tying all different kinds of knots on different ropes with no problem and now just holding a rope made him want to throw up. Unfortunately for him, Dad was determined to break Adam of his fear. The first day he only had to hold the rope for a minute while Dad timed him, the next day it was five minutes, then 10, then 30 and then Adam had to carry a rope around all day. He still absolutely hated the damn thing, but he had to admit that his Dad had a point. The more he dealt with the ropes again, the easier it got.

The week after holding the rope after Dad insisted that Adam tie up Dean and Sam and watch them escape. He hated it more than words could say. The nightmares that had died down with the week of just holding and working with the ropes came back with vengeance. More than once he woke up in the morning snuggled so close to Dean's back that he was practically underneath him and he would scoot away uncomfortably hoping not to wake his brother.

Sam and Dean were both extremely patient with him though and for that Adam was thankful. Dad finally left on the hunt Bobby had set up but had given strict instructions that Adam was to practice every day. While Sam wanted to let him slide and take a break from the whole exercise, Dean was adamant. Every morning before school they would do their PT and then Adam would have to tie Dean up and listen to his play by play of how to get out. Then in the afternoon he'd come back from school do weapons training, sparring and supernatural studies with breaks tie up Sam. He hated every single moment.

It did get easier though. He wasn't afraid of the rope. He began to be able to handle them again without feeling panicky or getting unwanted flashbacks. He could tie up his brothers efficiently using any kind of rope offered and became an expert with knots.

He still didn't want to be tied up though. Neither Sam nor Dean had mentioned Adam taking a turn. Not in the whole two weeks, Dad was gone. Adam knew they both sensed how difficult the entire situation had become. The only time the ropes were brought up was during training and even then both brothers stuck to observational statements about how to get free and how best to work with each type of rope and knot.

Adam knew it couldn't last forever though. He knew Dad would be home soon and the real training would start again. There was no getting away from it. Dad was determined that Adam would get over his fear and learn to escape from being tied up. He was a stubborn old man that much Adam knew was true.

When Dad returned from the hunt, Adam was dismayed to find out that hadn't gone as well as they had hoped. Dad was vague on the details, but the mood he came home in was enough to let all the Winchester boys know that, even though he'd come home in one piece, Dad considered the hunt to be a failure. An already upset Dad was not what Adam wanted when he had to take on this stupid ropes training again.

"Ok, Adam. Let's go." Dad said, holding out the familiar bristly brown rope as he stood in the middle of the motel room.

Adam was sitting in one of the motel room chairs in the tiny kitchenette, attempting to prepare himself for what he knew was coming. He glanced across the table at Sam who gave him a little encouraging nod. With a deep breath, Adam stood up and walked over to his father, feigning a confidence he didn't feel. He knew he needed to put on a brave front. He had to show Dad that he wasn't afraid, that he could control his fear.

Looking at the rope in his father's hands though, Adam felt the old panic coil in his stomach. He grit his teeth against it, determined that he wouldn't be weak and give in. Boldly, he stood in front of his father and stretched out his arms trying to channel Dean's fearlessness and Sam's stoic expression.

With one hand Dad grasped his wrist and with the other moved to begin to tie the rope. The moment the rope touched him Adam pulled away violently, snatching his wrist from his Dad's hold.

"Adam!" Dad scolded.

"Sorry! Sorry." Adam said hastily, ashamed that he had so quickly lost the little bravery he had worked so hard to develop.

Once again he put his hands out and this time Dad grabbed both his wrists tightly.

"Stay calm son," Dad said quietly, beginning to wind the rope.

_Calm. Calm. Calm._  Adam chanted to himself.  _Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

The tightness in his chest was still there and the rolling of his stomach. His palms were still sweaty, his pulse still racing. So much for all that training. But he hadn't passed out yet, so that was something at least. Adam focused in on the ropes, watching his father tie, feeling the pressure against his wrists, the roughness of the rope against his skin. He grit his teeth again, trying to hold back the fear and panic that made him want to fight to get free and run away. He watched as Dad knotted the rope and let go.

"Ok, Adam. Get out of the ropes."

For a moment all Adam could do was stare at his wrists. He felt dazed. The intense focus he had on the ropes and the knot had disappeared. All that was left was an empty feeling of confusion and fear. He blinked hard trying to pull himself together.

"Adam. Focus." Dad said sharply from in front of him.

Adam hadn't even realized that Dad was still there. It felt like the world had gotten very small and all he could see were his own wrists, bound and tied together. He blinked again, feeling the blackness on the edges of his vision. Was he breathing?  _Breathe. Don't forget to breathe._  A deep breath brought him a half second of peace, but he still couldn't move.

"Adam." Dad said again tersely "What should you do? You have to get out."

Adam nodded, feeling like his head weighed a hundred pounds. What should he do? What? He couldn't remember.  _Fuck._  He couldn't remember. He pulled randomly at the ropes, tugging and pulling his wrists apart, but nothing happened.

"Come on, kid! You can do this!" Dean encouraged from his vantage point on one of the motel beds.

Adam could barely hear him. The whole world had faded away. It was only him and this stupid rope. He pulled harder feeling the rough rope bite at the soft skin on the inside of his wrists. He twisted again, straining and fighting harder. The panic was gaining strength inside him and Adam knew he had to get out. And get out now. He pulled harder, then again faster. He yanked and twisted, feeling his heart beat out of control and sweat drip down his back. He wrenched his wrists against the ropes, feeling tears pricking his eyes and bile building in the back of his throat.

"Stop! Stop!" yelled Dad, abruptly grabbing Adam's wrists to stop him fighting.

Adam closed his eyes, trying to hold on to the feeling of his Dad's hands on his arms, searching for comfort in the touch.

"What are you doing?!" Dad questioned angrily, "You're just making them tighter!"

With a flash of Dad's butterfly knife, the ropes were cut and Adam's arms were loose. He nearly collapsed with relief.

"Adam. Son. You have  _got_  to get ahold of yourself." Dad said forcefully.

Adam nodded, eyes downcast to the motel room carpet. "I know." He whispered.

"Dad, this is ridiculous. He's not ready." Sam said, coming to stand behind Adam.

"Sam," Dad warned, his tone clear.

"Dad!"

"Sam! Knock it off! He has to learn this!" Dad yelled.

"Why Dad! Why? You're torturing him!" Sam yelled back.

"God Dammit Sam!" Dad shouted clenching his fists in rage. Adam instinctively took a half step back from his father and watched as he took in a deep halting breath trying to control his temper.

"You boys know as well as I do how dangerous our lives are." Dad said, his calm somewhat returning, "Not only does Adam need to know how to escape, he needs to know how to control his fear. It could be the difference between life and death."

"Yeah Dad, we know." came Dean's predictable answer from across the room. Adam wanted to look behind him to see what Sam thought of Dad's response, but he didn't dare look away from his father's serious stare.

"Ok, Adam. Let's go again." Dad said with a sigh.

"Dad, I…." Adam started, feeling his palms begin to sweat again, "I actually don't feel good. Maybe we could do this another night?" he asked hopefully.

"You won't always feel good son," John replied tersely, "You could even be hurt. You have to learn to work through it."

"Yeah ok, but maybe I need to practice some more, you know?" Adam tried again, taking another small step backward.

"Adam..."

"I think that I could definitely get it with a few more days," Adam rushed on, ignoring his father's unhappy gaze.

"You've been working on this for weeks Adam," Dad said forcefully, "Come on. I know you can do it."

"Dad... I… I can't," Adam said feeling his voice quiver "I just can't."

"Adam, I've been more than patient with you. It's time to get tough. You can do this. You are going to do this. We'll do it until you get it right. I don't care how long it takes."

"No." Adam pleaded weakly, backing up again.

"You don't get to say no to me boy," Dad said, his temper rising again in frustration.

"Dad?" Dean questioned, walking towards them ready to get between his father and brother if necessary.

"Dean. We have babied him enough. It's time to sink or swim. Now get over here Adam," Dad said pointing to the spot in front of him that Adam had managed to slink away from.

Adam swallowed hard and looked at Dean for help. Suddenly Dad reached out and grabbed him roughly by the upper arm, pulling him aggressively across the few feet of space between them.

He leaned down to meet Adam's eye.

"You get in control of yourself. Remember your training. You can do this " he said.

Adam just stared back in shock.

"Arms," Dad demanded.

Again muscle memory took over and Adam found himself holding his arms out and Dad roughing twisting the rope around them. The world was tipping again, his chest tight, tears filling his eyes.

"Dad… Dad please…" Adam whimpered, "I've done everything else you've asked. Just please."

"No Adam."

"Dad!" Adam cried, trying to pull his arms away from his father's vice-like grip.

"Adam!" He said sharply, refusing to let go. "You think I want to be teaching you this stuff?! You think I like tying you up? You don't think I'd rather be teaching you how to throw a slider or change in the oil in the truck! No!" he yelled, his hold grinding together the bones in Adam's wrists.

Adam could feel the tears welling in his eyes when Dad paused. "No," he said again, visibly struggling to remain calm, "I know you don't want to do this. I don't either. But you have to. And so do I. This is our life."

"Dad…" Adam said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No Adam," Dad said with finality, "I am done arguing about this."

Adam could no longer hold back the tears and felt them hotly roll down his cheeks as his father finished tying the knot that would restrain him. He wanted to look over at his brothers, find some sort of comforting glance that could get him through this moment, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from the blurry vision of his wrists in front of him.

"Adam," Dad said, his voice low but calm, "Just go sit on the bed. You don't have to try to get out of the ropes, just go sit."

Adam nodded and fumbled his way over to one of the motel room beds, tears distorting his vision and hot embarrassment on his cheeks. He hated that he couldn't control himself. That he was so useless and weak. Dean would never act like this. Sam would fight until the end. Adam was just too weak to be a Winchester. He wished he could disappear.

"Dad?" Dean asked in a hushed whisper as he hovered around his father like a moth to a flame, "I can work with him some more. He's still new to all this,"

Adam watched behind downcast eyes as Dad ignored Dean, sidestepping him to get out more supplies from his duffle bag.

"We've got time. I'll stay back on the hunt in Reno next week. Sam can go and I'll stay and work with Adam," Dean pressed on, trying to get Dad to look at him.

"Goddammit!" Dad shouted suddenly, throwing the duffle he was holding across the room, making Dean flinch. "Outside Dean!"

Adam's stomach dropped at the order and he looked up to see an expression of equal shock and dread on his brother's face. He watched as Dean steeled his features into a mask of non-expression and turned around throwing a sidelong glance at Sam as he walked toward the motel door.

Dad followed Dean but just before walking out looked at Sam as well, "Sam. Don't touch him," he said, jabbing a finger in Adam's direction.

Sam didn't respond, just stared back.

"Sam?" Dad demanded.

"Yes, sir." Sam ground out, his jaw set tight in an effort to hold himself back from further irritating their father.

The second the motel room door closed, Sam flew across the room. In a whirlwind of action, he grabbed the duct tape off the bed and rushed to grab Dad's discarded duffle off the floor. He scrambled and fumbled around in it until he came out with a small box, which he popped open revealing a stack of thin razor blades. Sam then reached out to his little brother pulling him up off the bed to standing.

"Sam!" Adam whisper yelled, shocked that Sam would so quickly disobey their father.

"Shut up," Sam whispered back harshly, grabbing the front of Adam's belt under his shirt. Like lightning he grabbed one of the razor blades and duct taped one side creating a safe hold. He quickly grabbed another piece of tape and pulled Adam's belt forward, taping the blade to the backside of the belt just behind the buckle. He let Adam loose and quickly grabbed another blade, spinning his brother around fast enough to make him dizzy. Adam felt more tugging on the back of his belt, just under the small of his back before he was spun around again, facing Sam once more.

"There. You've got two blades," he said in a hurried whisper, "Can you get to it?" he asked pointing to the front of Adam's pants.

Adam moved his hands down experimentally and found that yes; with some twisting, he could touch the blade that was hidden on his belt.

"And one behind," Sam said, eyeing the door where they could both hear Dad's booming tenor drilling into Dean. "Get free if you need to. Fuck what Dad says."

Sam jumped back across the room landing back where Dad left him just as the door lock clicked open. Dad strode in, eyeing Sam and Adam; seemingly suspicious that Sam had not set his brother free.

"Sam," Dad said, still distrustfully staring at his middle son, "You and Dean are gonna go out for a few hours. Give your brother some space to work."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dad cut him off.

"Sam I swear to God if you say another word it will be the last thing you say today," Dad said seriously.

Sam clamped his mouth shut, settling for giving Dad a sullen scowl.

"It's ok Sammy," Dean assured him, looking poignantly at Adam. "Really."

Sam huffed and glanced back at Adam too, giving him a knowing stare. Adam understood the look Sam gave him. The look that said ' _Do what you have to'_ but it didn't stop the sick feeling that was still sitting in his stomach. Sam's whirlwind weapons hiding trick had stunned Adam's tears into drying, but his eyes were welling again watching his brothers grab their coats. The ropes felt coarser, tighter even, as he watched them walk out the door, both turning to give him one last look of pity before they left.

"Suck it up boys," Dad said, witnessing the exchange. "He's gonna be fine."

Dean gave an embarrassed cough and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, guiding him out the door. Adam watched their coats disappear as the door slowly swung closed and clicked home in its latch.


	19. Learning the Ropes- Part 3

After the door closed completely, Dad walked over slowly sitting down next to him on the bed.

"No more distractions, son. We are gonna get this done," he said calm once more, placing a gentle hand on Adam's knee.

"Now, can you get out of those?" he asked, nodding down at Adam's still bound wrists.

Adam tested the ropes, pulling just a little to see if there was any slack.

"No," he whispered, not looking at his father. Sweat was still rolling down his back, making it tickle uncomfortably and his stomach was rolling with panic so fiercely he thought he might throw up.

"Do you know why?" Dad asked, his voice quiet.

Adam shook his head. ' _Cause I'm bad at this._  He wanted to say. ' _Cause I can't do it and I'll never be able to._

"Let's try again," Dad said, leaning over and picking up Adam's wrists of his lap. Dad felt around for the knot he had made earlier and easily untied it, unwinding the rope from Adam's sore arms.

Once it was off Adam rubbed his wrists, noticing they were already red from the prickly rope.

"Dad. I really, really don't want to do this," Adam begged, "Please don't make me do this anymore."

"Adam…" Dad said in a low warning tone.

"Dad, please."

"Son, don't ask me again," Dad said, taking Adam's wrists in his hands again, not looking him in the eye. "Now what should you do when I start to tie the ropes?"

Adam bit his lip to keep it from quivering, ignoring his father's question.

"Adam!" Dad said, insistently "Focus. What should you do?"

"Umm… pull I guess," Adam mumbled as he watched his father carefully wind the ropes around once again.

"Yes, put tension on the rope," Dad said.

Adam looked up at his father hoping to catch his eye, wishing that Dad could see just how much he didn't want to do this training.

"Dad? Please, can I do this some other time? Please?" he pleaded again.

Dad didn't look up from knotting the ropes tightly against Adam's arms. "Adam. What did I say?" he asked, tugging on the ropes.

"Don't ask," Adam replied in a quiet murmur, his focus returning to the ropes on his wrists and the tightness in his chest.

"And what did you do?" came a growled reply.

"Asked."

"Look at me," Dad demanded. Adam slowly drew his eyes away from the ropes and looked up to see his father staring down at him harshly. "This is your last chance boy. I'm being patient with you but if you keep trying to beg off this training or get your brothers to try to get you out of it I'm getting my belt and we'll do this the hard way. You understand?"

The tight feeling in Adam's chest was replaced by cold fear as he shuddered with the memory of the last time he was treated to a taste of his father's belt and Adam nodded vigorously, quickly adding a "Yes sir" for good measure.

"Ok." Dad said finishing the knot, "Now. Get out of the ropes."

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and fought to get a deep breath. He experimented with the ropes, gently twisting to see if he had been able to make any slack. His pulse was racing as he felt the coarseness of the rope grind into his skin. He couldn't pass out. He knew he had to get calm, but it was impossible when he could feel his father's eyes boring into him.

"I…I can't do it with you watching me," Adam said breathlessly, still fighting his body's desire to panic.

Gratefully his father nodded. "Understandable." He said, standing up and walking over to pick up his discarded duffle off the floor where Sam had returned it.

Seeing Dad pick up his bag reminded Adam of the blades that Sam had hidden for him and he instantly moved to touch his belt buckle feeling the cool, confident security of the razor blade hidden there. Running his fingers along the taped edge Adam found he was able to take a deep breath, the knowledge that possibility of his freedom was so close at hand calming him. Adam quickly moved his hands away as his father turned back around, pulling his well-worn hunter's journal and a handle of whiskey from the bag.

"I'll be over here," he said walking to the small kitchenette table, "Take your time."

Adam watched solemnly as his father grabbed an empty glass from the counter behind him and sat down heavily at the table, making the old metal chair squeak. He didn't look at Adam as he tossed down his journal and twisted open the lid of the glass container, pouring himself a hearty three fingers worth.

 _Great._  Adam thought as he bit back a sigh watching the scene. The last thing he needed was Dad getting drunk. The man barely had any patience, to begin with, and under the influence, he had none at all. Adam knew that the second that glass touched his father's lips the clock would start ticking. He had to get out of these stupid ropes before his father crossed the line from calm, sleepy drunk to volatile rage monster. Adam felt his fear fade as his frustration grew watching his father take a healthy gulp of the 'Hunters Helper'.

Testing the ropes again Adam made the split-second decision to use the blade Sam had given him. He turned away from his father, angling as far as he dared without drawing attention to himself. With any luck, Dad would just think he was seeking out privacy to work on freeing himself. Sitting sideways on the edge of the bed, Adam slowly felt downward behind his belt feeling for the blade, hoping he didn't cut himself. Cautiously he used his fingertips to pull out the razor and then carefully turned it and began sawing at the closest line of rope around his wrists.

It actually took a surprising amount of time to cut through the coarse rope with the tiny blade, but Adam was determined. The thick veil of fear that had shrouded him since first starting this training had lifted and Adam was surprised to find that a detached feeling of calm had settled within him. He carefully kept his face neutral as he worked the rope, slowly sawing away distinctly aware of his father's movements in his peripheral vision.

Soon the rope frayed and Adam watched with relief as it fell away and he was able to easily pull his hands free. He sat motionless for a moment, staring at the coil of rope in his hand, now neatly separated into two pieces.  _Now what?_  He thought.

He was still staring down at the rope in his hand when heard the motel room chair squeak loudly as Dad stood up.

"See?" he said beginning to walk over to Adam, "What…" he questioned softly, eyeing the two pieces of rope in his son's hands.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he yelled now, stomping over and roughly grabbing a handful of the sliced rope from Adam's hands.

Adam looked up at his father towering over him. The fear that had so quickly dissipated with the cutting of the ropes rose again within him. He swallowed reflexively, shrinking a little despite himself.

"You cut it?!" Dad roared, shaking a fist full of rope in Adam's face.

Adam leaned away but instead of feeling the fear continuing to building within him, he was surprised to find that an ember of white-hot rage had replaced it. He stared up at his father fiercely wishing he could punch the man.

"Where's the blade?" Dad demanded, "Where?"

Adam glared at him and refused to answer. The razor blade had fallen on the ground when Dad grabbed the rope and Adam had simply moved his foot on top of it, hiding it completely. Watching his father's face redden as he stayed quiet, Adam knew he was playing with fire but he didn't care.

"Dammit!" Dad bellowed again, throwing the sliced ropes on the floor and looking like he wanted to strangle Adam. "What did you use? I know you don't have your switchblade."

Adam scowled at his father and then looked away, refusing again to answer.

"Cut the goddamn ropes," Dad mumbled to himself lowly, turning away and clenching and unclenching his fists in that way he always did when he was trying to get a hold on his temper.

Fury boiled in Adam's chest. How dare he keep doing this? Acting like something was wrong with Adam because he didn't want to get tied up. Any other person in any other family wouldn't be such a jerk about his. Wouldn't make Adam suffer even more after what he went through with... What was wrong with his father that he insisted this stupid ropes shit had to be learned now? What's wrong with waiting a few years?

Suddenly Adam couldn't hold it in any longer and shot up from the motel room bed, glaring accusingly at his father.

"You said to get out of the ropes!" he yelled. "You didn't say how!"

Dad spun around rapidly, "Don't even try to pull that shit!" he yelled, "You know goddamn well what you're supposed to be doing."

Adam sneered at his father then glanced at the motel room door behind him, debating if he could get past the wall of fury that was John Winchester to make a break for it.

"Don't even think about it," Dad ground out, watching Adam's every move. "I'm gonna ask you one more time: where'd you get the blade?"

Adam ground his teeth and bit his lip in defiance; there was no way he was giving up Sam. Instead of answering he stared silently at the carpet. His father made one slow heavy step in Adam's direction, a move that would have normally had Adam cowering, but Adam didn't flinch. He watched his father's old boots, waiting for a hand to reach out and grab him to shake him hard or slap him.

When nothing immediately happened, Adam lifted a tentative eye, rage still burning in his chest. He looked up to see his father glaring down at him, his face hard and furious.

"Fine. We'll talk to your brothers when they get back."

Adam's stomach dropped a little at his words. A talk with Dad only ever meant one thing. Adam continued to bite hard on his bottom lip refusing to snitch on Sam, even if it meant all three brothers would take a beating for it. He was pretty sure Dean would understand, even if he had nothing to do with the whole situation.

Suddenly Dad reached out and Adam did flinch, despite his earlier boldness. He was roughly pushed back down onto the motel bed and Dad stormed away, grabbing another coil of rope off the opposite bed.

Seeing his father walk toward him with more rope drained all the fight out of Adam. There really was no getting out of this. No matter if he cut the ropes, or ran away or fought his dad, there was no getting away from it. Dad was an unstoppable force and Adam was caught in his path.

Dad paused in front of him momentarily; seemingly debating about something then changed his mind and reached down and roughly grabbed Adam's arms yanking them up painfully and beginning to tie them. Adam let himself be manhandled and watched with a detached feeling as he was bound yet again. The ropes were definitely tighter this time than they had been before. Adam knew he should strain against them, try to make some slack so he could work his way free, but he didn't. He didn't struggle, didn't fight. All the fear and rage that had been coursing through him all afternoon had faded and left him exhausted and empty. He simply sat, indifferently watching his father finish the knot.

"Now." Dad said, releasing Adam's bound wrists, "Get out of the ropes."

Adam didn't move. He felt hollow. He had nothing left to fight with.

"Adam," Dad warned

Still, Adam didn't move. Choosing instead to embracing the nothingness that was settling over him. He looked up from the ropes slowly, avoiding his father's gaze and staring impassively toward the motel window. This was never going to stop. Why fight it. Why fight to get free?

"Adam. Get out of the goddamn ropes," Dad growled.

Adam ignored him, retreating deep within himself. His eyes were open, his body had not moved, but he was no longer in the dingy motel room, bound and tied by a father who insisted he wanted to help. A man who swore he had Adam's best interests at heart. No, Adam was gone. He was back at the cabin by the lake that he and his mom had visited with her best friend from nursing school that amazing week in the summer before she died. He was sitting on the pier with her watching the sunset reflected in the water, the cool evening summer breeze blowing her hair. They were talking about her best friend's daughter, Mom teasing Adam about his crush. He loved the way she smiled at him, all at once proud, loving, and attentive, everything he had ever needed in the world. She loved the sound of water and swore one day they'd make it to the beach so they could sit together and listen to the waves crash on the shore all day.

Suddenly a bright burst of pain to the side of his face viciously rocked his head and brought him instantaneously back to the grimy room. He gasped in surprise at the unexpectedness of the hit, tasting blood at the corner of his bottom lip. He steadied himself a moment, before risking a hesitant glance up at his father who he found to be glowering down at him.

"Get your head in the game boy." He snarled, "We aren't done here."

Adam stared up at him, shock still flowing through him, his jaw throbbing. He looked away submissively, gingerly probing the cut on his lip with his tongue and wincing at the jolt of pain it sent through him. He felt his father grab his wrists once more and hid his face as his hands were untied.

"Now," Dad said, "You're gonna do this right this time."

His tone left no room for discussion and Adam knew they were well past that point anyhow. Dad's hand's never released Adam's as the ropes came off.

"Focus," Dad said, starting the process of tying Adam's wrists over again.

Taking a deep breath, Adam grit his teeth against the panic in his chest. He'd known from the beginning that there was no avoiding this training, but he was now starting to see just how far his father was willing to go to teach the lesson. Swallowing his nerves, Adam strained against the ropes, flexing his arms muscles and pulling as much as he could trying to put tension on the rope, hoping to make the slack he was told he'd need.

"There," Dad said finishing the knot and moving away. "Get to work."

He turned his back on Adam, walking back over to the kitchenette table and pouring another hearty drink into the empty glass.

Adam sighed sadly but obeyed his father, starting to work on the ropes, twisting his wrists and after awhile finding that he was able to create a bit of slack.

Three hours later Adam's wrists were bright red and rubbed raw, but he had been able to free himself twice. He'd lost all hope that his father would give up on the training, however, once he'd been told that until he was able to get free in less than 5 minutes they would continue.

Hearing the roar of Dean's Impala pulling up in front of the motel room, Adam briefly looked up, but finding a hard stare from his father, quickly returned his focus to the ropes.

Adam watched from under his eyelashes as moments later Dean and Sam walked into the room, Dean carrying a bag of fast food takeout.

"Brought dinner," he said lightly, "How's it going in here?"

Dean placed the bag on the table where their father still sat, cautiously eyeing the handle of whiskey next to him that was now more than a third of the way empty.

"Making progress," Dad said quietly, appraising his eldest sons.

Dean nodded casually and took off his coat, placing it on the back of the chair opposite his father. Sam hesitated entering the room, hovering momentarily in the doorway, but soon he too shook off his coat and then walked over toward Adam, attempting to nonchalantly assess his younger brother without drawing their father's attention. Catching sight of Adam's busted and swollen lip he spun around to catch Dean's eye.

Adam was still covertly watching his brothers, aware that they were exchanging concerned looks on his behalf. Dad had been drinking since they left and whatever patience he might have had to control the tension that was building in the room had left hours ago. Adam could feel Sam's hackles rise, but before his brother could spit out the accusatory sentiments he planned, their father stood up slowly from the table.

"Front and center boys," he said lowly, his voice slow and unhurried.

Adam watched as Dean straightened at the order, tightening his jaw, preparing himself for wherever this was headed, which they all knew wasn't good. Adam stood and felt Sam stiffen next to him as they both walked to stand near Dean in front of their father.

Adam chewed the inside of his cheek and twisted his hands within his ropes as he watched his father stare them down. Dad's eyes were red, but not unfocused. He stood more steadily than a man who'd drunk that much whiskey should have been able to. Anger and frustration were coming off him in waves and it was all Adam could do to keep quiet and resist the urge to plead for himself and his brothers.

Dad slowly walked over to the motel bed that Adam had been sitting on, reaching down and picking up the discarded rope that Adam had cut himself free from earlier.

"I wanna know," he started, grabbing the rope and walking back to the boys, holding it out for each to see, "who decided to give Adam a blade?"

Adam could feel himself trembling with fear in the silence of the room, his father slowly pacing before him. He didn't dare risk looking at either of his brothers; terrified he might give them away somehow and cause their father to strike.

"I did," Dean said immediately, his voice steady and without hesitation.

Of course, Dean would take the blame. Somehow Adam always knew he would.

"No," Sam admitted, taking a small step forward. "I did."

Dad stopped pacing and stood directly in front of Dean and Sam, considering them both.

"I know you did Sam." He said finally, after a long pause.

Adam glanced over at Sam, watching him swallow reflexively, trying to stand up straight and not be intimidated by their father.

"Are you running this training exercise, Sam?" Dad asked dangerously, leaning into crowd his middle son.

"No sir," Sam answered his voice strong but cautious.

"Then why did you give him a blade?"

Sam's eyes darted over toward Adam on instinct and Adam looked back fearfully. He should have never cut the ropes. He should have never gotten Sam in trouble like this.

"Don't look at him. Look at me." Dad snapped, narrowing his eyes at Sam furiously, "What made you think you could undermine my training like that?"

Adam trembled in fear for his brother. He wished he could look around Sam to see Dean, to get an idea of what he should do. Instead held still, unconsciously twisting the ropes around his wrists, painfully irritating the raw skin there.

Sam was obstinately silent for a moment, his face held in a defiant scowl. "You really want me to answer that?" he challenged.

Instantaneously Dad's hands were fisted in Sam's t-shirt, grabbing him violently with a forceful shake. On instinct, Sam closed his eyes at the movement preparing for the moment of impact he expected.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, grabbing roughly at his father's arms, attempting to free his younger brother from their father's tight hold.

Dad let go with a shove, pushing both Sam and Dean back with such force that both brothers stumbled and had to grab onto each other to stay upright.

"You like this Sam?" Dad yelled, "Huh? You like getting your brothers in trouble like this?"

Sam stared back insolently for a moment, still clutching onto to Dean for support. He glanced quickly between his brothers and Adam watched as shame and guilt began to slowly rise in his cheeks, erasing the brazen rebelliousness that had been there only a moment before.

"Understand me, boys." Dad growled, looking at each boy intentionally, "This is happening. Adam is gonna learn just like you did."

Adam and his brothers stood silently in front of their father, waiting expectantly for his next command, each unsure of what would be demanded of them. Unsteady with fear Adam continued to play with the ropes that bound him, noticing vaguely that he had managed to get one knuckle of his thumb joint out and he was very close to freeing himself completely.

"You boys know that I take this training seriously." Dad started, beginning to pace again in front of his sons.

Adam watched his father's steps with a careful eye, noting the slight slur of his words that had started.

"I absolutely will not tolerate insubordination," he said, pausing in front of Sam and staring down at him.

Sam had let go of Dean and was standing up straight again, facing their father head-on, waves of animosity and rebelliousness rolling off him.

"In case you haven't noticed," he ground out shakily from behind gritted teeth, "We're not your subordinates. We're your sons."

Dad's reaction was instantaneous and Adam cringed and cowered as he watched

father's fist connect with Sam's jaw.

"Sam!" Dean scolded in disbelief as Sam stumbled with the blow, but didn't fall, quickly bringing a hand up to his face to soothe the ache of the punch.

"On your knees," Dad said evenly, staring at the boys "All of you."

Adam could feel his body beginning to shake again as he watched Dean and then Sam slowly kneel before their father. As he moved to follow his brothers he was stopped in mid-motion as his father grabbed the front of his pants, pulling his belt away from his jeans.

Dad was silent as he stripped Adam of his belt, scowling as the saw the second blade that Sam had hidden in the back.

"That's what I thought," he confirmed angrily, putting a rough hand on Adam's shoulder and pushing him down to kneel next to Sam.

Dad took the belt in his hands, peeling off the unused razor blade and throwing it to the ground. Adam watched with dread building in his belly as his father twisted the belt around, folding it and placing the buckle inside his fist. Sweat tickled at the back of Adam's neck as he realized that not only was he was still tied up, he was about to take a beating. He glanced down at the ropes and fought with renewed enthusiasm to break the hold.

"Dad, please don't do this." Dean said, attempting to bargain for their fate, "It was a mistake…"

"A mistake that won't be repeated." Dad said forcefully, "Dean, you are as much at fault here as your brothers. They don't take training seriously and that blame rests on you,"

Adam snuck a sideways look at Dean to see him hang his head in defeat as his shoulders slumped in guilt. What Dad said wasn't true, Adam knew that. He always took training seriously and Sam did most of the time. Dad was just looking for a way to blame Dean.

"Shirts off," Dad said, tightening his hold on the belt and slowly walking around behind the boys.

Adam swallowed in fear and gave one last powerful twist on his ropes, feeling the tightest bind gratefully slip free. At least if he was gonna take the belt, he wouldn't have to do it tied up. He watched from his peripheral as his brothers obeyed their father's command and slowly shrugged off their outer flannels and then their thin t-shirts.

"Adam," Dad warned dangerously from behind him.

Adam realized he had not yet followed the command and rushed to drop the rope and pull his shirt over his head. The room was silent except for each man's breathing as they kneeled shirtless on the old, musty motel room carpet waiting for their father's first strike

Adam heard the first lash crack loudly in the quiet room and saw Dean rock forward slightly, gasping softly in pain. The next strike came to Sam, causing him wince and shudder. Adam knew the next would be for him, but even knowing didn't prepare him for the white-hot bite that landed across his naked back moments later. The stroke drew an unexpectedly loud cry from deep within him that caused embarrassment to flush Adam's cheeks. He had wanted to stay quiet like his brothers.

Adam wasn't prepared to feel the next lash; somehow thinking that Dad would go back to Dean and the surprise of it forced another embarrassing shriek from him.

"Dad…" Dean called, looking over to Adam, "Please don't..."

Whatever dam of restraint that had been holding John back was broken with Dean's words and he suddenly let loose and the belt flew between Sam and Adam, striking each brother wildly. Adam could no longer kneel upright as blow after blow was forced upon him, blinding him with pain. In his haze of shock and agony, he felt Sam dive on top of him, covering Adam's body with his own absorbing more lashes. Adam was vaguely aware that the pain in his back had lessened but that the sounds of the crack of the belt were still reverberating around the room.

"Its ok, its ok, its ok," he heard Dean chanting from above him and realized that Dean too had thrown himself on top of Adam and Sam, taking the brunt of their father's rage.

Sobs were shaking Adam's chest as he buried his face in his hands, trying to hide beneath Sam, pushing himself further into the motel carpeting.

As suddenly as the torrent of violence had begun it stopped. Adam was still sobbing, struggling to get air into his lungs beneath the weight of his misery and crushing weight of his older brothers on his back.

Slowly he felt Sam and Dean lift themselves off of him and he hesitantly sat up, still feeling the lingering burn of the lashes on his back. Uncontrollable tears were still running down his face as he turned to look at both his brothers. Sam was shaking, silent tears streaking his own face and Dean was pale, taking in halting gulps of air trying to control himself.

"Get dressed," Dad barked out breathlessly from behind them.

Adam's lips quivered and his hands shook as he reached down for his discarded t-shirt, gently pulling it over his head and wincing as it touched his back. He could only imagine what it felt like for Dean and Sam.

Adam timidly looked over his shoulder at their father still standing behind the boys, Adam's belt held loosely in his hand. The red rage that had boiled over within him had evaporated and Dad stood immobile, a look of disbelief and uncertainty on his face.

Unsure if he should stand up, Adam glanced over at Dean who had put his own shirt back on and returned to kneeling obediently in front of their father. A quick glance over at Sam and Adam saw he too was still kneeling again and waiting for the command that would release them.

Behind them Dad cleared his throat gruffly, "I'm going out." he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion.

Adam flinched as the belt was dropped beside him and he watched from hooded lashes as his father grabbed his coat and keys from the motel table, swiftly moving out the door without a backward glance.

All three brothers visibly slumped with relief when the motel door closed and Adam felt exhaustion overtake him.

"You guys ok?" Dean asked, standing slowly and coming to help Sam and Adam stand as well.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled, shaking off Dean's help and tentatively shrugging his shoulders testing out the soreness of his back.

Adam nodded and gratefully let Dean help him up, relishing in the comfort of his brother's gentle touch.

"What about you?" Adam asked, looking between his older brothers trying to assess just how much of their father's rage they had spared him from.

"Fine," Dean said, ignoring the question and continuing to examine his brothers' injuries.

"I'm sorry guys," Adam whispered to the carpet in shame, acutely aware that he was the cause of this whole mess.

"Why?" Dean asked, coming around to look at Adam. "It's not your fault,"

Adam looked up at his brother skeptically. There was really no way this  _wasn't_ entirely his fault. If he hadn't been such a crybaby about the ropes and had just done the stupid training like he was supposed to then they wouldn't be flinching every time their shirts rubbed their backs.

"What just happened…" Dean said sympathetically "That had nothing to do with you."

"Yeah," Sam said coming around to Adam's other side, "And if we'd have known he was gonna start drinking, we never would have left."

"Sorry about that, kid," Dean said, putting a comforting hand softly on Adam's shoulder.

"Guess the hunt was worse than we thought?" Adam questioned quietly.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped, studying the faces of each of his younger brothers carefully. Adam caught a flicker of guilt pass over Dean's features before he looked away, instead of looking down to Adam's battered wrists.

"Let's get some bandages on those ok?" he said, changing the subject and taking Adam's hands in his own, turning them over to examine the extent of the damage, "Maybe we can convince him to move over to nylon huh?"

"Wait… am I gonna have to do this again when he comes back?" Adam cried out, feeling his stomach churn with renewed fear.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances before Dean spoke.

"I'd say you're probably off the hook for tonight," he said looking back at the empty whiskey glass still on the table, "but… uh…yeah…eventually, you'll have to do it again."

Adam frowned feeling the increasingly familiar feeling of hopelessness returning.

"But hey," Dean said trying to force a lighthearted tone, "If you can get out under pressure like you just did, it should be no problem!"

Adam forced a weak smirk for Dean's benefit, "Just call me Houdini," he whispered sarcastically.

Dean returned the smirk and then glanced down again at Adam's red wrists. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok? You to Sammy," he said eyeing the bruising that was darkening Sam's jaw, "Maybe some ice on that?"

Adam let Dean steer him to the motel bathroom, but couldn't ignore the lingering dread he felt knowing that the whole ropes training thing might not be over, even with the beating they had all just endured.

 _A/N- Thank you to_ everyone _who has left reviews and kudos! This story has become a labor of love and I so_ appreciate _any feedback you have to give!_


	20. Songs and Memories

 

_ Timeline- This story takes place in early in Adam’s first summer with his brothers. 12-year-old Adam has begun hunting with his family and although things are still rough between him and Dean, they are gradually getting better. _

As the melody of ‘Highway to Hell’ faded Adam peeled himself off the sticky, hot leather of the Impala’s backseat to lean over the front bench seat between his two older brothers.

“Hey! Can we listen to XYZ now?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at Dean.

“You mean YYZ?” his brother asked, raising his eyebrows in a lighthearted taunt, “Yeah. Sam, find ‘Moving Pictures’,”

Sam rolled his eyes, but put a bookmark in the book he was reading and reached down to the floorboard and picked up the cardboard box of cassettes that contained Dean’s pride and joy.

“Seriously guys?” Sam complained, flipping through the tapes, “Are there even any words to that song? Its like 90% drum solo!”

“I know right?” Dean said with an appreciative nod, “Neil Peart is a God.”

Adam grinned at Dean’s approval of his musical request and patted himself on the back for his choice. To be honest, Adam didn’t actually like Rush, not even the 2112 album that Dean loved so much, even though his older brother had schooled him on how amazing it was and how it was a  ‘rock masterpiece’. But Adam knew pretending to like the song would earn him some brownie points, even if it meant listening to another 10-minute ‘rock epic’ with no catchy hook or fun lyrics.

As Sam continued to flip through Dean’s collection of tapes, Adam read the titles over his shoulder. AC/DC, Kansas, Boston, Led Zeppelin: all the essentials of classic rock.  Dean was pretty proud of his taste in music and wore it as easily as his own leather jacket, often pointing out to Adam the guitar work on a particular song or informing him of some random trivia about the artists or albums.  Adam had never really paid attention to music before, at least not in the way intense way that Dean did. Growing up Adam would listen to whatever was on the radio or whatever songs his mom liked. He was only just now seeing that his taste in music could define part of who he was as a person and how people saw him. Watching Dean, Adam was learning that knowing the intricacies of a Rush drum solo could make him more of the badass he wanted to be.

He tried to take in Sam’s preference of music too, but there weren’t very many opportunities. Not only did Sam not see music as a trademark of his personality the way Dean did, but he also didn’t get a chance to listen to the music of his choice very often. Since Dean almost never let him drive and the family rule of  ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’ was permanently in place, the only time Adam ever got to hear the kind of music Sam liked was if they were stuck in a motel room together, waiting on Dad and Dean to return from somewhere. On the rare occasions that Sam did get to pick the radio station, he’d mostly choose what Adam’s mom would have called ‘coffee house rock’: soft acoustic guitars and light melodies that made Adam picture overstuffed chairs surrounded by stacks of musty books against the window of a grey and rainy day. It all fit Sam perfectly.

Sam finally found the tape Dean asked for and handed it over as Dean a hit a button on the tape deck and popped out the current AC/DC album.

Suddenly the crackling melody of a weak local radio station filled the car and Adam was struck, feeling his heart tighten at the recognition of the song playing.

_ ‘It’s a little bit funny... this feeling inside,’ _

“Wait!” Adam called out as Dean reached to push in the tape that Sam handed him.

“Kid, that’s Elton John, you don’t wanna listen to that crap,” Dean said, eyeing him in the rearview mirror.

As the song washed over him Adam remembered.

“This was my mom’s favorite song,” he whispered, already feeling lost in the ballad and his memories.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but said nothing. Dean didn’t push in the tape, instead turning up the volume on the fading radio station.

_ “If I were a sculptor, but then again no...” _

Adam slowly sat back, sinking against the backseat and letting the music envelope him, carrying him away from the highway and the Impala, back to his home in the kitchen with his mother on a Saturday morning as she did the dishes and sang along to her favorite radio station. Mom liked the soft rock of the mid-80s, Elton John and Billy Joel were her favorites; and while listening to Led Zeppelin and AC/DC with Dean made Adam feel cool, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the sweet familiarity of these songs. 

As he watched the desolate landscape of interior Florida pass Adam began to feel strangely lonely, sad, and homesick. Since he’d come to live with his father and brothers he’d been training himself to forget. Forget his past. Forget his mother. Forget the terror that had torn them apart. It was the some of only advice Dean had given him when he first came to stay. “Just push it down and keep going.” he’d said. So Adam had tried to do just that. He’d ignore his feelings and focus on the day-to-day training and studying that his family required of him. Not to mention, Dad’s constant demand of physical training had him so exhausted most days that musing on the past wasn’t usually an issue.

But of course the past was never truly gone and pushing it down didn’t always work.  Usually he could keep his memories at bay, locked up tight in the back of his mind. But then he’d smell her laundry soap. Or stupid Elton John would come on the radio and Adam would be lost.

He didn’t always cry. The feelings weren’t always like that. Nothing like the pure heartbreak and despair he had experienced when she first died. No, he found that the feelings had become a mixed bag of sadness.

_ “I hope you don’t mind… that I put down in words… how wonderful life is, while you’re in the world...” _

As he looked out the window at the flat expanses of the back country roads, Adam let his mind wander and allowed himself to feel a small trickle of the feelings that were backed up against the dam in his mind. He tried to think logically about his feelings, something Sam often suggested he do. Sam didn’t subscribe the ’stupid macho bullshit’ of ignoring your feelings the way Dean did.  He’d told Adam that it was ok to be sad, or depressed, or just miserable sometimes, that everyone felt that way, especially people who had dealt with horrible things like Adam had. But there were so many things Adam missed about his mom and although rationally he knew that everyone who had lost someone felt like this, that logical thinking that Sam so relied on never made Adam feel any better.

He stared out the window, feeling the humid breeze ruffle his hair, watching the wide, flat farms lining the long thin highway, bleached white by the harsh southern sun and thought about his mom. His brothers were silent in the front seat each watching the road in front of them and lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly the song crackled hard and as quickly as it had come the station was lost to static, stirring all the Winchester brothers from their reflections.

Dean cleared his throat roughly; shaking off whatever heavy thoughts he had been contemplating.

“Alright.” he said curtly, attempting to hide the weakness in his voice.

He pushed in the cassette that was hovering in the tape player and the sounds of the legendary rock band filled the car.

Adam was relieved to feel the shock that the first driving notes of the song sent through him. It was enough to shake him from his melancholy and allow him take hold of his sadness and force it back into the cage where it belonged. He forced himself to listen intently to the song, thinking only of the notes and wondering if Dad would ever buy him a guitar.

Two weeks later they had wrapped up the gig in Gainesville and were packing up their meager bags, getting ready to hit the road to head to a small town in southern Georgia where Dad had found their next case.

Adam was looking forward to the move. Florida in June was too damn hot in his opinion and although Sam promised him Georgia wouldn’t be much better Adam was ready for the change.

“Boys! Get the lead out!” Dad called from the parking lot outside the room, where he was going over a map in the front seat of his pickup.

Adam grabbed his bag off the bed, watching as Sam rolled his eyes at Dad’s order but pickup up his own backpack and duffle off his bed and headed out of the room.

“Hey kid,” Adam heard Dean call from behind him.

Adam turned to see his oldest brother walking toward him, his own duffle thrown easily over his shoulder, the keys to the Impala in hand. Dean used his free hand to reach for something in the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small case and handing it to Adam.

“Here,” Dean said roughly, not looking at his brother as he handed him the worn cassette case he had picked up in a Buy, Sell, Trade store across town.

Adam looked down at the tape, seeing an artistically lit photo of a young Elton John, the artist’s name written in an elegant font across the top and suddenly Adam felt awkward and embarrassed, “Uh, thanks…” he said quietly.

Dean shoved his hands in his jean pockets and rocked back on his heels, clearly feeling as awkward as Adam felt. “We can play in the car whenever you want,” he said, giving Adam a short nod.

Adam nodded back, biting the inside of his lip and looking away from his brother. He slid the tape into his pants pocket, running his fingers along the sharp edge of the plastic case.

Dean gave his brother another short, awkward nod then walked around him and out the door of the room, leaving Adam alone.

Adam kept his hand inside his pocket, wrapped tightly around the gift, gritting his teeth in an effort not to cry at the kindness his brother had shown him.

“Adam!” Dad yelled from outside, “Get it in gear!”

Adam jumped at the command, swallowing the lump in his throat and hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 


	21. The School Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline- Adam is 13 years old and has been with the Winchesters for a little over a year. This would take place the fall before Sam ends up leaving for college.

Adam sat on the bench in the school office, tapping his foot and trying to keep from wringing his hands. They said they had called his father. 

Fuck.

The thought of John Winchester having to drop what he was doing and come to school for a meeting made Adam want to throw up. It wasn’t so much that he was scared of his father, not that he didn’t have a healthy respect for the man’s right hand, it was more that he knew how important his work was. Any time away from hunting could mean more potential victims, more lives lost and more guilt than Adam wanted to consider. Hunting was serious business, certainly not something to be put on hold for a middle school fight. 

Adam sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his well-worn sweat jacket that had once been Sam’s (and probably Dean’s too) and glanced at the clock. He’d been sitting on this bench waiting for almost two hours. Adam wasn’t sure if the teachers were actually able to get in touch with his father, but this long wait suggested they might have been successful. He couldn’t remember the name of the town that Dad’s latest hunt was in, but he knew it was standard practice for Dad to station them at least one town over from any hunt he went on for safety, so it would take him an hour or more to get to school if he had to.

Watching the quiet bustle of the school office around him Adam tested the cut on his newly busted lip, pleased to find that it was small and the blood had already dried. That asshole Trevor had barely gotten any hits in at all. If it weren’t for his two cronies jumping in Adam could have beat his ass completely. Regardless, that jerk got was what coming to him. Adam overheard one of the office ladies saying that Trevor’s jaw was broken and he was going to have to have it wired shut. Adam smirked at the thought. That’ll make him shut the hell up. 

Adam was brought back from his thoughts when the door to the small school office opened next to him. 

“Mr. Winchester?” the school secretary questioned.

Adam hesitantly glanced up, prepared to see a stormy glare from his father, but was instead met with the back of his older brother’s head as he blew right past Adam and moved in to sweet talk the secretary. 

“Yeah, but you can call me Dean. Actually,” he said, leaning over the counter, flirtatious grin lacing his voice, “you can call me anything you want,”

Adam rolled his eyes, secretly impressed with Dean’s skill. It never ceased to amaze him, but Dean could take the most normal sounding phrase, like ‘Hey I’m Dean,” and turn it into something that sounded dirty and made every woman a puddle at his feet. Seeing it made Adam embarrassed and envious. He watched the secretary bite back a smile at his brother. She was young and pretty and probably never got hit on quite this smoothly, being surrounded by 7th and 8th grade boys all the time. Adam could tell she was trying to stay professional all while smiling excitedly at the young man in a leather jacket with the devil may care attitude leaning against the counter. 

“Dean?” she said looking down and away from the bright green eyes that were studying her face, “Adam’s father is listed here as John Winchester. You are?”

“His older brother.” Dean supplied, “Our dad’s away on business, so I’m looking after the little squirt.” he said, giving her a thousand watt smile and turning up the charm.

“Oh.” she said, with a small smile in return, seeming a little overcome under Dean’s gaze. “Oh, um well ok. I’ll just go and tell Principal Ross that you’re here.”

Dean smiled at her again and tilted his head to watch as she turned and walked away down the short hallway, before he spun around to face Adam.

“What the hell did you do?” he hissed, all pretense gone.

“Dean! I’m sorry man! He deserved it! He did.” Adam pled, “I didn't mean to drop my knife!”

“Your kni-!” Dean growled “Ugh. Damn it.”

“Adam, Dean.” Came the call from down the hallway, “You can come in now,”

Dean glared at Adam as he stood and they walked toward the principal's office, passing the young secretary on the way. Adam didn’t look but he felt the exchange of flirtatious smiles between his brother and the woman. Despite being nervous about meeting the principal, Adam made a mental note to ask Dean for pointers later.

They entered the office to find the principal already standing behind her desk. She motioned for them both to take a seat in the chairs opposite her. 

“Principal Ross, I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances,” Dean said respectfully, reaching out to shake her hand before sitting.

“As am I Mr. Winchester,” she said professionally, returning the shake and sitting down in her own chair. 

Principal Ross was a good 25 to 30 years old than Dean, so Adam wasn’t sure if he could work his magic on her to get Adam out of this mess, but damn if Adam wasn't gonna enjoy watching him try.

“Ms. Ball says that your father is away on business?” she asked, looking between the brothers. 

“Yes ma’am.” Dean replied.

“And how old are you Dean?” she asked, cocking her head to appraise him.

Dean sat up a little straighter in his chair, “ I’m 21, ma’am.”

“And I suppose you are Adam’s guardian, in place of your father while he is away.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright then, I’ll tell you what I had planned to tell your father and I hope that you will pass along the information. If he has any questions or concerns, or if by chance you cannot remember any part of the conversation, you may have him call me directly,” she said smartly.

Adam snuck a sidelong glance at his brother, who simply tightened his jaw slightly saying respectfully “Of course ma’am. I understand”.

He was amazed at Dean’s self-restraint. Adam himself wanted to scream at this woman, call her out on being such a rude bitch. Instead he grit his teeth and sat quietly, following Dean’s lead. 

“Your brother got into an altercation with another student today that resulted in the other young man being taken to the hospital with a broken jaw and multiple lacerations.” she said staring at Adam. “Not only that, but Adam was found to have a weapon on his person, something strictly forbidden on school grounds!”

Adam didn’t cower or duck his head in shame like he felt she wanted him to; instead he stared at her biting the inside of his lip from habit and was reminded of the cut there when he got a sting of pain. 

“Because of the severity of the young man’s injuries we have yet to get a clear statement on what caused the incident. Your brother here has refused to speak to us. I’d hoped your father's arrival would prompt him to offer an explanation.”

Dean looked over at his brother expectantly. “Well?”

Adam was quiet a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation, a way that wouldn’t have him coming out looking like a wimp who couldn’t take some teasing or a homicidal maniac who brought a knife to school.

“Trevor has been giving me crap since we moved here. He went too far today.” Adam said, with a shrug.

“What’d he say?” Dean said, turning in his chair to face his brother, instantly dropping whatever strategy he was planning to use on the principal and focusing intently on Adam.

Adam was hesitant and quiet again. He hadn’t told Dean or Sam about the bullying. Trevor was a jerk, his friends were jerks and the two months Adam had spent at William Hays Middle School so far had completely sucked, but Adam didn’t wanna seem like a wuss. 

Not only that, but after a year of Dean’s hand to hand combat training Adam was wary of getting into any fights with someone he didn’t actually want to kill. Dean hadn’t taught him any half-moves, only techniques to disarm and kill. The fact that he might accidentally go too far within a fight scared Adam into keeping his temper in check more often than not. Except for today. Except for when Trevor said that awful thing. Adam saw red. He didn’t think about the damage he could inflict upon the boy, who had nothing but football practice and schoolyard scuffles to fall back on. It was probably a good thing that Trevor’s friends had jumped in and probably an even better thing that Mr. Greggs and Mrs. Miller pulled Adam off the three boys. 

“Adam?” Dean tried again, his voice full of concern.

Now Adam did duck his head, his brother’s worry making him feel all the heartache he had masked with anger.

“He said… He said mom probably killed herself to get away from me,” he whispered in a rush, his voice trembling a little.

Principal Ross let out an audible gasp from across the room, but when Adam glanced up all he saw was Dean’s soft gaze, staring deeply into him. Adam grit his teeth against the tears that were filling his eyes and he took in a sharp shaky breath feeling his lip quiver embarrassingly. Adam hung his head, trying to hide the tears that were threatening him. 

“Hey,” Dean whispered, leaning in closely and putting a gentle hand on the back of Adam’s neck. “You’re alright, its ok.”

Dean’s soft words of concern nearly cracked the tight wall Adam had built around his pain and he had to fight to hold himself together. Dean hated ‘chick flick moments’ and for him to be this intimately concerned, especially in front of someone besides Sam, made Adam want to hide his face in his older brother’s shirt and sob.

He didn’t though. He grit his teeth and tried to man up, taking in a another slow unsteady breath as Dean moved his hand away with a subtle pat to Adam’s back. 

Principal Ross cleared her throat, seemingly now uncomfortable with the emotion that had developed in the room. “Well, I will certainly speak to Trevor and his parents about this, Adam.”

Adam nodded numbly, just ready for this whole thing to be over with.

“However, that does not excuse your level of violence toward the boy, nor the fact that you had a weapon. The weapon alone is reason enough for expulsion,” she continued. 

Adam looked up at her in shock. Expulsion? 

“At the very least you face several weeks suspension and a note on your permanent record.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the principal’s door and the young secretary opened the door a crack, popping her head.

“Principal Ross? Trevor Miller’s father is on line one for you,” she said.

The principal nodded, standing up from her desk. “I’ll take the call in Vice Principal Timmons office, thank you.”

The secretary nodded, flashing a smile Dean before closing the door.

“If you’ll please excuse me for a moment. I need to take this call.” She said, walking around her desk.

Dean gave her a nod of approval, which she returned before walking out the door and into the hallway leaving the brothers alone. 

“She said this was going on permanent record!” Adam said, putting his head in his hands. 

“Permanent record.” Dean scoffed “Dude.”

“Dean this is serious! I can’t have this on my permanent record! I can’t get expelled! I’ll never get into medical school if I get expelled.”

“Ok... relax kid,” Dean said nonchalantly 

The boys were quiet for a little while, Dean looking around the office and Adam gazing desolately out the window.

“So you kicked his ass huh?”

Adam looked over at his older brother to find a shit-eating grin all across his face. As miserable as he was over the thought of being suspended, or worse expelled, he couldn’t help but return the smile. 

“Yeah. Took on all three of those dick heads.” He replied proudly. 

“And the knife?” Dean questioned curiously.

“I actually forgot I had it.” Adam admitted. He’d been so intent in pounding Trevor’s skull into the hallway floor he’d totally forgotten the butterfly knife that Dad insisted that he carry at all times. 

“You weren’t gonna use it?” 

“No. I didn’t even know I dropped it. It stopped the fight pretty quick though” Adam said with a shrug.

“Yeah I bet.” Dean said.

Just then the door opened again and Principal Ross strode in, walking immediately back around to her desk. 

“Well I’ve spoken to Trevor’s father and convinced him not to press assault charges against Adam.” 

Charges? Adam didn’t even know that was a possibility. It was just school fight. Could he really have gone to jail just cause that idiot didn’t know when to shut his trap? 

“We certainly appreciate that Principal Ross,” Dean said courteously.

Principal Ross nodded at Dean, sitting back down at her desk. “Unfortunately we still have to deal with the fact of the knife Adam brought to school.”

“Ma’am I’m sure...” Dean started

“Dean I’ll stop you there,” she said cutting him off, “No matter what reasoning your brother might have had for bringing a knife to school, we have a zero tolerance policy. I have no choice but to expel Adam for the reminder of the school year.” 

“Ma’am!” Dean protested.

“I’m sorry Adam,” she said, grabbing a pen and a small slip of paper from the corner of her desk. “I’ll give you the name of the alternative school in our area. Your father may choose to enroll you there.”

Adam could only stare at her open mouthed. Expelled?

“There will also be a note on your permanent record about the incident Adam. You’ll   
need to clear out your locker and turn in your books before you leave the building today.” She gave him a sad look and held out the note she had written to Dean.

He took it from her, a hard look on his face. “The knife?” he asked.

“Yes.” She said, taking out a key from her pocket and unlocking one of her desk drawers. Adam watched as she opened the draw and took out the small butterfly knife, handing it across the desk to Dean. “Here you are.”

“Principal Ross,” Dean said, his face still hard but clearly trying to keep an edge of respect to his voice, “Please reconsider this. Adam is a good kid.”

The principal looked away from Dean to Adam and he felt her study him. He wondered what she was thinking, seeing him sitting across from her, wearing worn out clothes two sizes too big, his older brother coming to his rescue rather than his father. Adam could only imagine the kind of awful home life she was picturing for him. 

“I’m sure.” she said, “But the rules apply to everyone. And bringing a weapon to school cannot be overlooked.” 

“Principal Ross, please!” Adam cried. 

“I’m sorry Adam. Please go clean out your locker.” 

Adam looked over to Dean, who only gave him a sad look in return and patted a heavy hand on his shoulder. Adam stood up dejectedly, throwing one last pitiful look at Principal Ross for good measure. 

Adam followed Dean out of the office and ignored his flirtatious exchange with the school secretary on the way out. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening to him. 

“This is so unfair,” he said kicking the air and scuffing his shoe along the tile hallway floor on the way to his locker.

“Sorry kid,” Dean said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Adam looked up in surprise. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Cause she might have been waffling on if you were a good kid or not but she made her decision the minute she saw me,” Dean said, staring at the lockers as they walked past. 

“Oh.” Adam said quietly, unsure of what to say. 

They made quick work of cleaning out the few things Adam had in his locker and turning in his textbooks. Before Adam really had time to process it, they were walking out to Dean’s Impala. 

They drove in silence for a long time, Dean stoically watching the road and Adam silently staring out the window. 

“Look kid,” Dean started, not taking his eyes off the road, “It’s gonna be ok. We are outta this town next week. Two weeks at the most.”

Adam was silent and continued to stare out angrily the window.

“You can teach yourself. You’re a smart kid,” Dean continued, trying to smooth over the situation, “And what you can’t figure out Sam can teach you. Hell I’ll help out where I can. I mean a GED is as good as an 8th grade education right?”

Adam rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Are you gonna tell Dad about this?” he asked, finally turning to look at Dean.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you have to tell Dad?” Adam pushed. 

“Yeah.” Dean said, giving Adam a half hearted look.

“Ugh,” Adam said, sliding down into the seat. 

“Do you think I’m gonna catch the belt for this?” Adam asked with a sudden realization. 

“Nah don’t worry about it kid. I won’t let the old man go too hard on you,” Dean said, giving Adam a nod.

“Even though I broke that kid’s jaw?” he asked skeptically. 

“Shit, with the moves we’ve been practicing that kid’s lucky to still be breathing.” Dean said, stifling a chuckle.

“He’s gonna be mad though,” Adam said, looking back out the passenger side window “getting expelled is not really ‘keeping a low profile’.”

“Yeah… well. I got your back kid. Don’t worry about it,” 

Adam sighed deeply and watched the landscape pass. He still couldn’t believe he’d been expelled.

“You know…” he said quietly, not looking away from the window “I used to be a good kid. Before…before all this. Jeez. Man, mom would have killed me for getting into a fight at school.”

Beside him Dean was silent, no quick-witted reply or typical sarcastic joke to lighten the mood. 

The ride back to the motel didn’t take long and before Adam knew it they were ‘home’. Not that Adam ever really considered any motel they stayed at ‘home’; nowhere but the house he grew up with his mom would ever be his home. 

As Adam was grabbing his backpack out of the backseat he saw Dean turn his head and at the same moment Adam heard the familiar rumble of their father’s pickup truck coming around the corner toward the motel.

Adam felt his stomach tighten into a knot as the truck pulled into the parking space beside Dean’s car. 

“Hey boys,” Dad said, as he opened the door and slid out of the truck wearing his fed suit, the tie slightly loosened and askew. ““Where’s your brother?”

“Sam’s got a tutoring gig,” Dean supplied, walking around his car toward Dad. 

“Yeah?” Dad asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Dean said with a smirk, “He said his new friend Stacy needed some help in algebra,”

“Ahh,” Dad said, smiling back knowingly “Friend.”

“Yeah.” Dean said grinning with a suggestive nod. 

Dad gave a soft chuckle and reached back into the cab of the truck grabbing his duffle bag and a small stack of manila folders. 

“How was school?” he asked Adam casually, as they all walked into the motel room they’d been renting. 

Adam shrugged and didn’t answer, throwing this backpack the motel bed he’d claimed. 

“That good huh?” he said, tossing his own duffle under the motel room table and shrugging of his suit jacket, hanging it over the back of one of the chairs.

“How were your interviews?” Dean asked, quickly changing subjects.

“Pretty good.” Dad replied, taking off his tie and laying over his suit jacket “I’m going back down the morgue tomorrow but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we’re dealing with,”

“And?” Adam asked, momentarily forgetting about the knot in his stomach. 

“Shapeshifter.” Dad answered.

“Really?” Adam questioned, his interest piqued. He’d studied all about shapeshifters with Sam but they hadn’t actually run across a case involving any yet.

“Yeah. I still need to get ahold of some security cam footage but that’s where all the signs are pointing.”

“Cool.” Adam replied in awe. Shapeshifters were fascinating. The ability to become someone else at a moments notice completely entranced Adam.

“Adam, how do you kill a shapeshifter?” Dad quizzed suddenly.

“Silver!” Adam answered back immediately, proud that he knew the correct answer right away for once. 

“Right.” Dad confirmed, “Silver burns their skin and you pierce them through the heart,”

“Decapitation works too if you’re feeling feisty,” Dead added, earning a smile from Dad.

“Dad, you want us to help you go through these files?” Dean asked, walking over to take a look at the folders Dad had laid on the table. 

“Sure kiddo. Let me hit the can and then we’ll take a look.” 

Dad walked off to the motel bathroom and once the door was closed Dean looked at Adam expectantly. 

“What?” Adam asked confused.

“You gonna make me tell him?” Dean asked, grabbing the top folder off the small stack and bringing with him to sit on one of the motel room beds.   
“You already said you were going to,” Adam shot back at him, annoyed. 

“He’d like it better coming from you,” he replied, turning on his most mature, older brother-y tone. 

“He’s not gonna like it at all, so it doesn’t matter,” Adams said aggravated with Dean’s righteous attitude. 

“You wuss.” Dean said, shaking his head at his little brother and turning his attention to the case file he’d grabbed.

Adam rolled his eyes at his brother and grabbed another folder off the stack, just at the bathroom door reopened and Dad appeared.

Dad crossed the small room and came to sit down at the tiny kitchenette table across from Adam, grabbing the remaining folders from the stack and opening the one on top.

“So Adam had an interesting day...” Dean said, raising his eyebrows in a taunt in Adam’s direction.

Adam glared back at his older brother.

“Son?” Dad asked

Adam felt the knot in his stomach return and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably under his father’s questioning stare.

“Yeah… uh... I got called to the principal’s office today,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Dad questioned in surprise, “Why?”

“I…uh…got in a fight.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, then his eyes settled and began to study Adam’s face. Adam cleared his throat and shifted again. 

“Oh, so that’s what that is,” he said motioning to Adams split lip, “I was hoping that was from sparring with your brothers,”

“Aw come on Dad,” Dean interjected, “I wouldn’t hit him in the face!”

“Cause I wouldn’t let you!” Adam snapped back, still annoyed with Dean and momentarily forgetful of his father’s stare.

“Pssft. Please,” Dean scoffed.

“Boys!” Dad said firmly. “Adam, you hurt anywhere else?

Adam shook his head, “I’m fine.”

“Ok then, what happened?”

Adam sighed and looked away from his father, staring down into the open manila folder in front of him.

“This guy Trevor has been messing with me since we moved here… and...” Adam hesitated not wanting to say those awful words again. “and he just.. He just deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” Dad questioned skeptically. “It’s not like you to get into a fight Adam, what did this Trevor kid say?”

Adam slumped in his seat, pulling his hands into his lap and staring intently at his cuticles. 

“Adam?” Dad prodded.

Adam stared at his hands and bit his lip, the sharp sting of pain there bringing tears to his already stinging eyes. 

“Uh…” he whispered, “He uh….”

“Dad,” Dean said, standing up and walking over to the table. He leaned down quickly, turning his back to Adam and spoke softly into his father’s ear. Adam couldn’t hear Dean’s exact words, but he knew that his brother had spared him from having to relive the bully’s taunts. 

Unlike Principal Ross Dad didn’t gasp when he had heard what Trevor had goaded Adam with. Adam looked up to see his father’s jaw clenched tightly and his eyes set hard, a scowl growing across his face. 

“That little bastard.” Dad said, through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Adam nodded in agreement. 

Dad shook his head with a sigh. “He did deserve it. How many days did you get?”

“Suspension?” Adam asked, “No. I… uh... I got expelled.”

“Expelled?” Dad asked in surprise looking over at Dean for an explanation, “For a fight?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly the fight.” Adam admitted, his stomach tightening again.

“Then what was it?” Dad asked suspiciously.

“Well… I kinda dropped my knife during the fight. The teachers saw it and freaked out. I guess they thought I was gonna kill the kid. But I wasn’t!” Adam said, looking away from his father’s rapidly darkening gaze, “I just forgot I had in it my front pocket. Me and Dean did drills last night and I stuck it in there and just forgot,” he added in a rush.

“You forgot about your weapon? And then you lost it?” Dad questioned quietly, anger growing in his voice.

“Well yeah, but Dad. This kid. I mean I couldn’t even think straight. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” Adam continued on, trying to ignore his dad’s irritation. “The principal said there’s zero tolerance at school for weapons, so I got kicked out. I think if it was just the fight it would have been ok. I know it’s not part of the ‘keeping a low profile’ thing and I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. But Dad this kid… ugh. I couldn’t take it anymore. He really had it coming. He did. And his two friends jumped in too, but I kicked all their asses. Trevor’s gonna be drinking his lunch out of a straw for the next eight weeks.” Adam said with a malicious smirk. 

“Adam.” Dad said firmly, drawing Adam’s attention back. “The fight might have been unavoidable, but dropping your weapon was not. That was simple carelessness on your part.”

“Wait. What? Are you actually more mad about me dropping my knife than breaking Trevor’s jaw?” Adam asked in shocked disbelief. 

“Watch your tone son. And for what that boy said to you, a broken jaw should be least of his worries. I can’t fault you for that. Hell, I’d have done the same thing,” Dad said, “But not knowing where your knife is? Forgetting where you put it? Dropping it in a fight? That’s something I can’t overlook. That kind of negligence will get you killed when you’re hunting.”

“Oh,” Adam said softly. 

“Where’s your knife now?” Dad asked.

“Here” Dean said, reaching into the back pocket of his own jeans and grabbing the knife, handing it over to their father.

Dad took the knife and pointed at Adam, “Do you have your other weapons?” 

Adam swallowed, suddenly nervous at the interrogation. “I have my lock pick set and my Swiss army knife...”

Dad stared at him intently for a few moments, clearly contemplating Adam’s impending punishment, before sighing and shaking his head in exasperation. “Go get changed. You owe me 5 miles before dinner.”

“But I...”Adam began to protest stubbornly, before a dark look from his father silenced him mid-sentence. 

“Do I have to tell you again?” Dad questioned warningly.

“No sir.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t duct tape the damn knife to your hand.” Dad said staring at him. “You gotta learn to pay attention boy. Now go run.”

Adam stifled a sigh and stood up to go find his duffle, still feeling confused by their conversation. This really wasn’t what he expected. He figured Dad would be pissed about the fight, irritated that Adam had blown their cover and even more angry that Adam had been expelled from school. Any normal parent would be. As the thought crossed his mind, Adam reminded himself that in his experience so far, John Winchester hadn’t been like any normal parent. The constant training, strict discipline and weekly abandonment were all definitely not normal. 

As he dug through his bag he overheard Dean speaking to their father in a voice so low he could barely make out the words.

“Dad, go easy on him huh? It was the heat of the moment. You know how a fight is.”

Dad’s voice was hushed as well, but serious, “That’s exactly when it really counts Dean. This is about survival. He won’t survive if he doesn’t know where is damn weapon is.”

Adam moved mechanically, letting his mind wander while he got changed. The whole day kinda felt like a blur. He still felt exhausted from the adrenaline crash after the fight and now he felt numb after the conversation with his father. 

“5 miles son,” Dad reminded him as Adam prepared to leave. 

Adam replied silently with a nod, his mind still on the events of the afternoon. That was one good thing about the run he guessed, some quiet time to think without Dean’s glib comments or Dad’s endless quizzes. He left the motel room, briefly checking his watch to time himself before starting to run.

As he began to run he focused first on the feeling of running, before trying to make sense of the day. He’d never been a runner before joining the Winchesters, he’d only run during sports practices and games and even then he never really cared about it. But after so many months of daily morning runs he found he was beginning to enjoy the process of running. He liked the feeling of it, the gradual warming and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of his feet rhythmically pounding the pavement. He thought he’d hate running and really at first he did. But, as with most things demanded by John Winchester, there was no getting out of it and after he’d finally figured out how to pace himself and built up enough stamina to keep up with his brothers he really didn’t mind it. That being said, he wasn’t really looking forward to an extra 5 miles today.

Getting into his rhythm he began to think through the day. He didn’t regret kicking Trevor’s ass. That kid totally deserved it. And he was pretty happy (and surprised) to hear that Dad agreed. He wondered what was being said about him at school and what everyone would say tomorrow. Not like he had a wide circle of friends, but he’d love to know what everyone thought of the quiet kid in school kicking ass. 

He honestly couldn’t believe he’d been expelled though. That stupid knife. How could he have forgotten about it? How could he have dropped it? As much as Adam didn’t want to admit it, Dad was probably right. Dropping his weapon was a stupid and costly mistake. It cost him his clean school record and maybe even his chance a medical school. Ugh. That reminded him. Alternative School. Adam wasn’t even sure what that really was. Just a school for the bad kids? He figured so. And if that were the case, how would he survive there? Today’s fight was a spur of the moment thing, and it only happened because he’d lost control of his emotions. Adam wasn’t a fighter. Even with all Dean’s training and Dad’s constant pushing, he knew that deep in his heart he was a healer not a warrior. He could train and learn and fake it, but he’d never have the natural talent and physical prowess Dean did. 

Adam shook his head, trying to clear away the intrusive thoughts. He tried to focus on his breathing, taking a moment to watch the pavement steadily moving in front of him but his traitorous mind instead brought back the conversation with his father. Adam could picture Dad in his mind’s eye, elbows leaning on the unsteady motel room table, face contorted in a mixture of anger, frustration and disappointment. Come to think of it, it was rare that Adam saw anything else on his father’s features. The man always seemed exhausted and out of patience. Even on a good day like today where the interviews had gone well and he was close to the end of a successful hunt, happiness seemed to elude him. Dad could toss a half smile or make a light joke with the boys, but it never lasted. The smile would quickly fade back into the standard mask of weary, heartbreak he unconsciously wore. Adam knew the minute he was pulled apart from Trevor that Dad was gonna be mad at him. That really came as no surprise, but the look of disbelieving disappointment was a shock. Dad had looked at him as if couldn’t believe Adam could even be so stupid. Adam knew it had been careless to misplace the knife, but jeez it was an accident. And shit happens. Dean said so all the time. Adam clenched his fists, pounding harder into the pavement. Dad would never cut him any slack. The expectations were always too high and no matter what he did Adam would never measure up. He’d never be as strong as Dean and never as smart as Sam. 

Damn this day.

Adam forced himself to stop thinking. It wasn’t helping. Thinking was just making everything worse. And he was getting to the point in the run that he couldn’t focus anyway. He pushed away all conscious thought and concentrated on his body. Pumping his arms. Pushing against the pavement. Breathing in. Breathing out. Over and over. Over again. 

He rounded the corner coming back into the parking lot of the motel feeling completely spent, emotionally and physically. He slowly trudged back into the room, finding his father and brother sitting at the motel table discussing the case over open beers. 

“Hey,” Dean said acknowledging him as he walked in, “Not a bad time kid,”

Pure exhaustion prevented Adam from being able to come up with a quick smart-alecky reply, so he settled for a shrug as he sat down on the motel room bed and began to unlace his shoes. 

“Adam,” Dad said, drawing Adam’s attention away from his shoes. “I’ve been giving this some thought and with you being expelled from school it seems like as good of a time as any for you to come with me on some interviews. Learn the process,”

“Really?” Adam asked, shock drawing him out of his haze of exhaustion. Dad had never mentioned Adam coming on interviews before. He’d been on a few hunts, werewolves, ghosts and the like, coming in with Sam and Dean at the last minute to ‘gank the baddie’ and torch the scene. He’d sat with his brothers in libraries all over the country reading newspapers, scouring old books and digging through archives, but never once had the possibilities of Adam going out to the scene or tagging along to witness interviews been brought up. 

“Yeah.” Dad replied, “There’s a hunt in Naples I need to send Dean in anyway, so it’s a good time for you to shadow me and learn how to deal with people. How to ask the questions or how to spot a lie,”

“Oh. Cool, but wait what about Sam?” Adam asked. As excited as he was to be included and that Dad thought he was finally worthy of going on interviews, he really didn’t like the idea of Sam being all alone, especially if Dad was sending Dean out on another hunt so far away. 

“Don’t worry about your brother. I’m sure he’ll be happy to stay here and focus on his schoolwork.” Dad replied with thinly veiled displeasure.

“Oh. Well…. Ok,” Adam said hesitantly, “but what about alternative school?” Adam asked suddenly remembering the note Dean had been handed.

“What?” Dad asked, confused.

“They told Dean you could send me to alternative school,” Adam explained, “Since I got expelled.”

“Oh…No.” Dad said with a dismissive shake of his head, “No. I’m close to finishing up this case as it is, it’d be a waste of time to get you re-enrolled at another school. 

“Oh. Ok.”

“Go on and get a shower,” Dad said, nodding toward the motel bathroom, “then I’ll catch you up on the case.”

“Ok” Adam said, forgetting his exhaustion and bouncing off the bed with excitement. 

He couldn’t believe it. Going out with Dad, doing interviews -actually working the case in person. Wow. Adam’s mind was spinning. This day had been a whirlwind and this was definitely not the way he saw it ending. After a brief moment of uncertainty he quickly decided not to press his luck and just accept that maybe good things could still happen to him sometimes. He still didn’t like the idea of being expelled, but maybe it wouldn’t affect his college chances, and if it meant it got an opportunity to go out with Dad and prove himself well maybe it was worth it.


	23. The Bubble Burst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag to the previous chapter. John's thoughts on Adam being expelled from school and the boy's future.

John was glad that Adam was excited at the prospect of tagging along to witness interviews with him. To tell the truth he was relieved as well. He remembered all to clearly young Sam’s reaction to the offer several years ago. 

He was also grateful that Adam had momentarily forgotten his expulsion and the idea that it might prevent him from getting into medical school. John was well aware of Adam’s desire to go to college and medical school to honor his mother’s wishes that he become a doctor. Although he hadn’t come right out and squashed the kid’s dreams, he’d been trying for the past few months to subtly inform him that medical school was not in the cards. 

“You don’t have to go to medical school to help people, Adam,” he’d said.

John didn’t wanna burst the kids bubble, not yet anyway. He’d learn medicine. He’d help people. But never in the way his 13-year-old mind was picturing now. If John had his way, Adam would spend the next few summers studying with Tom Helford, a former doctor who had been pulled into hunting when his family was killed by a Skinwalker. 

John had met Tom several years ago and had liked the man right away. They’d bonded over loss and heartbreak and although Tom was more sensitive then he’d like, John figured that’d probably be good for Adam. The kid needed a soft touch. Growing up with only his mom, he seemed to struggle with the rough and gruff way the Winchester men related to each other. 

Spending time learning from Dr. Helford, Adam could to study medicine without having to waste nearly ten years on the process of medical school. The ‘CliffsNotes’ version of a medical degree wouldn’t make him a perfect physician, but he’d be able to treat hunters and their strange types of injuries with precision and discretion, making him an unbelievable asset to the family. John knew enough about combat medicine to have taught all the boys the basics: how to set broken bones or stop a big bleed, but field medicine is more often about stabilizing a patient then actually treating them. Its one thing to be able to put in a few stitches with a penknife and dental floss, but to be able to safely and effectively treat an injury without having go to a hospital and explain to civilians the werewolf claw marks in his chest? The thought made John giddy. 

John would never disregard the importance of Kate’s wishes for her son and Adam’s own desire to fulfill her dream. He understood that becoming a doctor was one of the last parts of his mother that Adam held on to. In his mind, learning from Dr. Helford, Adam could fulfill his mother’s wishes and still be part of the hunting world, safe under the eye of the other Winchesters. 

Between the three boys, John could see that he had the opportunity to develop a near perfect hunting team. Dean was a born leader and a natural hunter. He had every bit of Mary’s grace and physical prowess. The kid was also becoming a tactical genius, able to quickly spot the holes in a plan and create resourceful strategies in the heat of battle, without a second thought. Dean was a hell of a soldier, ready to work hard without question and ready to fight for the greater good. 

And Sam? If Sam could get over his ridiculous desire for a “normal” life, he’d likely be the best hunter in the world. The boy had all the fire and intensity that John himself tried to keep bottled up inside, but he was smarter then his father could ever hope to be. John wasn’t sure of Sam had a photographic memory, but the boy seemed to remember everything he’d ever read and was always able to call upon the knowledge at a moment’s notice. 

With Adam balancing out the hot and cold of his brothers, they would all stand stronger and fight better. Adam could bring the natural wisdom he had inherited from Kate as well as the revenge fueled passion he had developed since her death. He was young, but John could see that Adam had the potential to become a force to be reckoned with just like his brothers. 

They’d be the perfect team. 

Even after his death the boys could go on to fight the good fight and keep each other safe. It was all John could hope for and he was going to do everything in his power to make it happen.


	24. Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in November 2000, when Adam is 13 years old.

Adam was in a daze, his head felt heavy on his neck, his limbs weighed down by some unknown burden. He was distantly aware of a creeping wetness soaking the back of his jeans and he tilted his head slowly in confusion to look down at the asphalt, wondering when he’d sat down and why he’d sit in a something wet. 

Suddenly Dad was on him, grabbing him by the lapels of his sweat jacket, shaking him and yelling words that seemed fuzzy and too quiet for Adam to understand. Adam reached up to push Dad’s hand away to stop the shaking but froze when he saw bright red on his left hand. Was that blood? Where did that come from?

The fuzziness that had shrouded him was beginning to recede and Adam blinked hard to clear his head and focus.

“Adam!” Dad was yelling, grabbing his son’s jaw and staring into his eyes, “Where Adam? Where?”

“Huh?” Adam mumbled back in confusion, still feeling cotton-headed and disoriented, wondering why Dad was so frantic.

“Where are you hurt son?” the question was yelled at him and Dad now running his hands quickly over Adam’s head, neck and shoulders searching.

Abruptly Adam became aware of a hot pain in his left thigh, sharp and biting, sending shooting bursts of agony from his toes to his teeth. Instinctively he gripped his leg tightly, instantly feeling a warm wetness soak his fingers.

“My leg!” he choked out, folding in on himself trying to manage the fiery pain.

“Ok. Ok son,” Dad was saying, his words getting fuzzy again, “You’re gonna be ok.”

Fuck. Adam thought. It was just supposed to be interviews.

\--

Adam woke up early. Early enough that neither one of his older brothers were standing over him ready to shake him awake before their daily run like they usually did. When he opened his eyes he saw the back of Sam’s head on the pillow beside him, blankets still pulled up closely around his shoulders, breathing deeply and easily. Adam blinked the sleep from his eyes and rolled over to see Dean sitting up on the motel bed across from them, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sleepily looking around for his shirt.

He noticed Adam was awake and gave a sluggish nod to his younger brother, “You’re up early.”

Adam nodded in return and sat up in bed, running a hand through his own hair in an absentminded mimic of his older brother, wiping away the last bits of sleep still clinging to him.

“Where’s Dad?” Adam questioned, glancing around the room.

“In the can,” Dean answered, nodding toward the bathroom behind Adam. Finding his t-shirt Dean haphazardly pulled it over his head. “Go on and get up and you can get next,” he offered.

Adam threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, aiming to take Dean up on his offer before his brother could change his mind.

“Sam,” Dean called out, his voice still gravelly with sleep, “Come on. Get up,”

Sam grumbled and snuggled further down into the blankets.

“Come on man. Don’t make me go WWE on your ass,” Dean threatened half-heartedly, standing up from the bed and stretching.

Sam groaned, but rolled onto his back and rubbed a hand across his face attempting to wake up.

“Quick five miles today boys,” Dad announced coming out of the motel bathroom, a hand towel flung over one shoulder, “Me and Adam gotta get out early.”

Adam grinned excitedly at Dad and hurried into the bathroom to get ready for their daily run. Normally he’d drag his feet and grumble about the early morning PT that Dad demanded, especially since his legs were still sore from the extra five miles Dad made him run yesterday as punishment, but today he didn’t mind. He just wanted to get out and get it over with so he and Dad could get on the road to work the case.

Adam would have never thought getting expelled from school would have turned into something so cool. Dad had never asked him to go along for interviews during a case before. Sure he’d done a few hunts: easy cases with ghosts and once a lone werewolf, and he’d done all the research a person could do, but he’d never dealt with the human element of hunting before. He’d seen the stack of badges that Dad and Dean had in their cars, everything from FBI and CIA to Park Rangers. He was eager to see what web of lies Dad would have to spin to make each of these fake personas a reality. And he couldn’t wait to try his hand at lying for the case.

Standing in the parking lot outside the motel stretching with Dad, Adam could barely contain himself. He was trying to stay cool and collected in front of Dad and his brothers but he was honestly more excited then he had been in a long time. He’d never admit it to them though. They would never understand. He wasn’t sure he completely understood himself. He thought he would have been more excited to go on his first hunt with Dad, but he was so scared the entire time that he didn’t remember being excited at all. But there was nothing scary about asking people questions. He didn’t even have to carry anything but his normal silver knife, not the loads of weapons he was obligated to have on his person when they went out on kill mission.

“Let’s go boys!” Dad called back into the room, trying to hustle his older brothers out the door. 

John looked over at his youngest son, noticing that the boy was nearly bouncing in place with all the nervous energy he’d built up overnight thinking about the interviews. Hopefully the PT would chill the kid out a little bit.

John wasn’t sure why Adam was so excited and interested in the interviews he’d been invited on. Although both older boys were great on interviews, neither seemed particularly interested in talking to witnesses. Dean liked the thrill of the chase and the physical challenges the hunt brought him. And Sam was always willing to read and research for a case, no matter how many century old books or papers he had to search through. Adam, however, was turning out to be a wild card for John. Years before, in a different life, John remembered friends telling him and Mary that siblings were always different from each other and when she was pregnant with Sam, the same friends would remind them not to expect the next baby to sleep like Dean had, or eat like Dean had, or do anything the same way Dean did. John knew all this and tried to expect it, but it was still a shock when newborn Sam slept through the night at three months old when Dean hadn’t slept all night until he was nearly a year, or when baby Sam wasn’t walking when Dean had taken his first baby toddles at ten months old.

Between the older boys John thought he’d really seen both ends of the spectrum that a kid could fall on when it came to hunting, but Adam kept finding ways to surprise him. Adam wasn’t wild about guns and weapons training, but he seemed to like all the sparring and survival skills John and Dean were teaching him. John was quietly impressed that the kid turned out to be a decent researcher. He had the patience to sit and read through the massive stacks of lore that Sam foisted upon him, but on the other hand he was absolute shit at Latin and half the time couldn’t remember the critical details of monsters he was studying. John tried to have patience with his son, continually reminding himself that the older boys had been in and around the hunting life for as long as they could remember and Adam had only been introduced a year ago. It was hard though; the thoughts of the looming darkness in the world scared John more than he would ever care to admit, causing him to feel an intense pressure to get Adam trained up and able to protect himself.

The morning run went by quickly and although John was pleased with the all boys’ times he had to bite his tongue to keep from reminding each of them of the importance of cardio in the hunting world. He knew he’d said it before, possibly every morning that he did PT with them, and it would only earn an eye-roll from his younger sons which he would be forced to correct and sour a pleasant morning.

“First shower!” Adam called as they jogged back into the parking lot of the EZ Stay Motel, quickly sprinting away from his brothers and towards the door of their room.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, taking off after him, “I’ve gotta get to school you dick!”

“Sam!” John admonished loudly at the back of Sam’s head as the boy ran off to chase down his younger brother.

John sighed and rolled his eyes as he watched the two younger boys jostle each other to open the motel room door first. Despite being small Adam was becoming a good fighter and John was proud to say the kid was learning to use his small size as an asset, ducking under and around his older brother to get in the door first.

“You driving Sammy to school today?” John questioned Dean as they stood in the motel parking lot stretching out their warm muscles. He already knew the answer was ‘yes’, Dean drove the boys to school every day John couldn’t, but John in was in the mood to start a conversation with his boy and the morning activities were as good a place to start as any.

“That’s the plan.” Dean replied, “I figured I’d hit the library after and see what I can work up on that Naples case before I meet up with Caleb tomorrow.”

John nodded in acknowledgement, ignoring the stone of fear that had developed in his stomach at the mention of Dean going on a hunt without him.

“Should be a milk run,” Dean continued, “But I figure I’ll check the local lore just in case.”

John nodded again, wanting to praise his son for the smart moves he was making, working a case from every angle like he had been taught rather then running in hot headed to ice the ghost like he knew Dean wanted to, but the fear of what might await his boy stole the voice from John’s throat and he had to cough to find his composure.

“You and Caleb keep an eye on each other.” John said, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing it. “And you call me when it’s done ok?”

“Yes sir,” Dean nodded seriously.

John gave his son a tight half smile and used the hand on his shoulder to direct him toward the motel room, fighting the urge to grab the boy and hug him tightly and tell him just to stay home. The thought of his boy going out into the hunting world without him made John physically sick. Hunting was always dangerous. There was danger in any case they followed. John repeated the statement enough to his boys, not in an attempt to scare them, but to make them appreciate the seriousness of their lives. Each time they stepped out to hunt something they took a risk. John knew that hunting was not a profession with a long life span and he shuddered to think that he might have shortened his own children’s years by introducing them at such young ages. John tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that his children were better prepared than most hunters twice their age. John’s own intense pressure and the boys’ natural aptitude had made them all exceptionally skilled.

But those thoughts did nothing to assuage the fear and trepidation that weighed on John as he thought of the hunt Dean was preparing to go on. It was what the Winchesters considered to be a ‘milk run’: an angry ghost that had been harassing a family after they had become the new owners of a 70 year old home. John had done his own research on the case, surreptitiously ensuring that it was safe enough for Dean and Caleb to tackle without him. Since Dean had turned 21 he’d been almost begging to go out hunting alone. John recognized that his son was growing up and that he needed time away from his father and his younger siblings to spread his wings and learn on his own. It was a difficult pill to swallow and in the time since Dean’s birthday he’d only been allowed on two hunts without John. And those cases were only permitted because they were with one of the three other hunters that John trusted and were cases that he had personally vetted.

If Dean was bothered by John’s strict standards and iron like grip over his hunting future, he never said anything. John liked to believe that Dean was content to follow orders because he knew the significant danger he could face, but in all likelihood the kid just kept his mouth shut to save his own ass. Dean wasn’t stupid in any way and he probably just accepted John’s stipulations, because he didn’t want to lose the opportunity arguing over details.

Besides, John reminded himself, Dean was an outstanding hunter, almost as good as John himself and half his age. Dean was strong, fast and smart. And despite his impulsive nature he could be restrained and serious when the cards were down.

And Caleb would be there. And Caleb was no slouch when it came to hunting. The last in a long family line of hunters, the boy had also been raised in the life and was well versed in the supernatural. Caleb was one of only a handful of hunter John trusted. The hunting community as a whole was filled with broken and unsavory characters that John preferred to keep away from his small family. There were only ten or so people that John considered trustworthy enough to even let them know he had children and only three that John actually trusted enough to look out for them. Pastor Jim had helped him many years ago when the boys were small, taking in the broken man and two preschoolers and comforting them. An introduction to Bobby Singer brought endless amounts of useful information and a convenient rough and tumble salvage yard playground for the rambunctious kids throughout their elementary and middle school years. Caleb was the last in a long line of hunters and after his father was killed by a family rugarus some years ago, John had taken the boy under his wing and often brought him out on hunts with his own boys or found time to stop by Caleb’s family home in Nebraska to check up on the kid. Although he wasn’t a kid so much now. Caleb was six years older than Dean and John had recently realized that he and Dean could be a completely capable hunting team and they’d both likely enjoy the company of someone closer in age. As much as John preferred for Dean to only hunt under the safety of his own watchful eye, he felt confident that Caleb understood the severity of their lifestyle and was happy that Caleb was a little more conservative than his own son when it came to planning out kill missions. 

The thought of Dean’s upcoming hunt still left a stone of discomfort in John’s stomach, but he mentally shook off the fear and focused back on the interviews he’d be taking Adam on today. He needed to make sure his head was clear and in the game if one of the boys was going to be out with him.

\--

Thirty minutes and two bathroom scuffles later John and Adam were ready and headed out in John’s truck to Hartsville. It was a two-hour drive away from the EZ Stay and the other boys, but that was part of John’s strategy. While he always wanted the boys close, he never wanted them close enough to a case to become collateral damage.

“Adam, let’s go over the case again,” John said, reaching between them on the bench seat to hand Adam a thin manila folder filled with the details of the case.

“Again?” Adam questioned impatiently, “Dad we talked about it for like three hours last night. I think I got it.”

John turned away from the road just long enough to give the boy a formidable stare, silently encouraging him to correct his tone and attitude before John had to pull over and do it for him.

Thankfully Adam took the hint and quickly amended his statement, “Sorry. Sorry.” He rushed, opening the folder that had been handed to him.

“Ok, so police found a woman murdered in her apartment and they say the husband did it because he left DNA and fingerprints at the scene, but the husband claims he was at a bar at the time and there are several people and security camera footage that put him there, right?” Adam said.

“Right,” John agreed with a nod, proud that the boy had been paying attention while he and Dean examined the elements of the case last night.

“Local blues are calling this a ‘crime of passion’,” John explained, not taking his eyes off the road, “Why is that?”

Adam looked down at the black and white crime scene photo in his lap, examining the gruesome scene the police had come upon.

“Ugh,” Adam muttered, not trying to hide his disgust. “Cause its super gross?” he asked, his lip turned up in revulsion as he examined the pools of blood on the carpet and the splatters that covered the apartment walls.

John had to work to suppress the chuckle that bubbled up at Adam’s unintentionally juvenile comment.

“Well actually, yes.” he said, biting back a smile, reminding himself to stay stern so that Adam would understand the gravity of the situation he was being brought into. “Cops call it a crime of passion because no thief or burglar would go to the lengths this thing did to hurt this woman. Even in the crime scene photos we can tell that the victim knew her assailant very well,”

Adam shuffled through the three other crime scene photos, reminding himself not to think to hard about the horrific scene they depicted. Last year he would have had nightmares after seeing pictures like this, remembering for days the unnatural look of the victim’s face and the sickening sight of body parts not attached to a body. But thanks to some advice from Sam, Adam had learned to detach himself and his emotions from the more grisly parts of hunting life. He sometimes thought of it like living in an episode of Law and Order. Scenes were gross and violent, but they passed quickly and then it was back to just talking about what happened.

He looked closely at the photos again, examining the wide puddles of blood and the splatters across the curtains and the walls, wondering what other clues he should be looking for in the photos.

“So police say the woman was cheating on her husband and he killed her for it?” Adam said, looking over at Dad.

“Basically, but given the circumstances I doubt that’s the case. There are too many witnesses to corroborate his statement, not to mention the security footage,” Dad explained, “There’s definitely more going on here than the normal lover scorned.”

“You think it’s a shapeshifter right?” Adam questioned, shuffling through past the photos to look at the other notes Dad had included in the case file.

“Almost positive. But what are some other things it could be?” Dad asked in return.

“Why does it matter? You said it’s a shifter.” Adam asked, wondering why Dad would question his own theory.

“I’m asking you to think Adam. This is how you work a case.” John explained. “It may be a shifter, but it could just as easily not be. There are a lot of creatures out there in the world and you need to be able to put together the clues to find out what exactly you are hunting so you can take it out effectively. That means not jumping to the first easy conclusion.”

“Oh,” Adam said, biting his tongue to keep from asking why Dad had to make things so difficult. Dean always told him to go with his gut, so why bother doing the extra work? If it quacks like a duck, it’s a duck right?

“So? “John asked again, prodding his young son.

“Umm…” Adam started, trying to rack his brain on what other weird stuff he knew about that could make it appear that a person was in two places at once. “Umm maybe a witch?” he asked, skeptical of his own answer.

“Ok, how?” John pushed.

“I mean I guess they’d just cast some spell right? Seems like witches can do all sorts of crazy crap.” Adam answered with a shrug.

“Ok what else?” John pressed again, wanting to see how much of the information Sam was teaching him that Adam was actually retaining.

Adam was quiet for a few moments, trying to come up with something else that fit the qualifications of the case, but nothing was really coming to mind. He snuck a look over at Dad, wondering if there was something blatant he was missing and feeling like a dumbass for not knowing whatever it was Dad was trying to get him to say.

“I don’t know, a fairy?” he asked, hopeful that his shot in the dark answer would be at least a little correct.

“A fairy? Adam.” Dad admonished.

“Well I don’t know!” Adam snapped, embarrassed.

Another testing look was sent across the cab of the truck and Adam folded his arms in barely contained fury. Was the whole day gonna be like this? Dad quizzing him on every detail of the case? Feeling stupid for not knowing the right answers? The excitement from the morning was slowly fading and Adam was starting to regret ever wanting to come along. 

He heard his father huff and looked over to watch Dad tighten his two handed hold on the steering wheel, a move Adam recognized from Dean’s attempts to calm down when Sam went on a rant about his brother’s terrible taste in music. 

“Adam. You are here to learn. That’s the whole point of everything we are doing. Its ok not to know the answers, but you better learn to keep that attitude in check.” Dad warned.

Adam bit the inside of his lip and mumbled an apologetic “Sorry Dad,” while sliding down into the seat of the cab.

They were quiet for a long time, both watching the scenery pass as they continued to make their way to Hartsville. Adam was trying to think about the case, trying to think like a hunter and plan for all the possibilities they might encounter. Dad said he thought the creature that murdered the woman was likely a shapeshifter, but then after the annoying Q & A session this morning, maybe Dad wasn’t so sure after all. Maybe he was asking Adam questions to confirm his own suspicion. It was unlikely, but the idea still comforted Adam and went along way to soothing his annoyance at his father. But really it had to be a shapeshifter. Adam didn’t know of another creature that could leave a person’s DNA at a scene, much less frame that person for murder. But why in the world would a shapeshifter frame someone? What kind of sense did that make?

The thought brought him back to a conversation he’d had with Sam over the summer while they were out in Colorado working a case with Dad. Sam and Adam had been relegated to research in the local library as usual, while Dad and Dean went to speak to the local forest service and Sam was pretty pissed about being left out for some reason.

“I just don’t know why they have to go after the thing,” he grumbled repeatedly to Adam, who after hearing the complaint the first ten times had just about tuned his brother out.

“It’s a monster Sam. Who cares?” Adam asked with a sigh, hoping his brother would, for once, just let the whole thing go so they could do their research and go get lunch.

“I care Adam!” Sam had shouted back, earning him a stern look from the one other person in the library that day.

“It's not even hurting anyone!” Sam said in a harsh whisper, leaning across the table to point at the newspapers in front of Adam.

“Not yet.” Adam shot back, annoyed. “It’s working its way up the food chain Sam: first dogs and deer and now cows and horses? People are next man.”

“We don’t know that Adam!” Sam said vehemently, “We don’t have to kill it cause of something it might do!”

Adam had stared back at his brother incredulous, feeling sure that Sam had lost his mind.

“What do you mean? It’s a monster. Monsters are bad. We kill bad.” Adam said assuredly. 

“Yeah but what if we are killing stuff that isn’t all bad?” Sam questioned in a whisper, his eyes bright with emotion.

“What are you talking about man?” Adam asked shaking his head; afraid of what Sam might be thinking and becoming uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.

“What if we could…I don’t know… talk to the monsters and stuff instead of just killing them? What if there’s another way?”

Adam wrinkled his brow in confusion at his older brother, “What?”

“Think about it man! Some of the stuff we go after is basically human, give or take a few chromosomes: witches, shifters, vampires. Why do we have to shoot first and ask questions later? What if we are going about this the wrong way?”

Adam was beginning to feel sick to his stomach and just wanted Sam to stop talking.

“Sam….”

“I mean what if we could talk to them? What if we could teach them? If they don’t kill humans than we don’t have to kill them! It’s simple! Surely there are some out there who are good? Just like there are good people and bad people? There’s gotta be good and bad monsters too?” Sam rambled excitedly.

Adam stood up from the table suddenly, sending newspapers and notes sliding. “I don’t wanna talk about this Sam.” He said, shaking his head, trying to clear his brother’s invasive ideas.

Sam stood up as well, leaning across the table again trying to get Adam to look him in the eye.

“Adam, come on. You don’t honestly believe everything Dad tells you right? Don’t you wanna think for yourself sometimes?”

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head again. Sam had obviously been thinking about this for a while, but the whole idea made Adam uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“The world isn’t black and white Adam. There’s room for the grey areas.”

“Shut up Sam!” Adam whispered harshly, “I don’t wanna talk about this!”

“Fine!” Sam spat forcefully, sitting back down, “You just go and be Daddy’s good little soldier like Dean. God forbid either of you ever have an original thought.”

Adam swallowed weakly, feeling a throbbing headache beginning to build behind his eyes. He didn’t want to consider Sam’s words. He didn’t need to question Dad. He didn’t want to wonder about the humanity of monsters. He had too much else to think about. He was just trying to keep his head above water as it was. Training and research and generally learning how to survive his new family was taking everything he had.

Adam felt the discomfort of that day returning as he stared out the window of Dad’s truck remembering his argument with Sam, wondering why a shapeshifter would kill an innocent woman.

“Dad?” he questioned quietly, startling his father from his own thoughts.

“Police said ‘crime of passion’ right?”

Dad nodded.

“So maybe that means the shifter was angry when he killed this woman?” Adam probed hesitantly, “Maybe even jealous of her husband?

“Maybe…” John answered skeptically, unsure of where Adam was going his questioning.

“I mean jealousy is like a pretty human emotion. If shapeshifters can have human emotions…and they can be bad like humans… do you think they can be good like humans too?” Adam asked, turning to study his father and wait for an answer.

John was silent, cutting his eyes to the side slightly to study his youngest son suspiciously. While Adam was a pretty smart kid, he had a feeling the origin of this ‘can monsters be good’ question didn’t come from the 13 year old across from him.

“What makes you say that?” John asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Adam responded quickly, “Just wondering I guess.”

John licked his lips and stayed quiet, letting the silence between them linger, waiting to see if Adam would fill the space.

“I mean, Sam said…”Adam started cautiously, before cutting himself off.

Ah, there it was. Sam. Of course it was his middle child who was questioning the natural order of the world. Leave it to Sam Winchester to look for the grey in a black and white world.

“Adam.” John said firmly, causing his youngest to look over at him solemnly, “Monsters are monsters. Not people. I know you know that.”

Adam nodded slowly and looked away from his father’s intensity, staring back down at the manila envelope in his lap and hiding his eyes.

More than the other boys Adam already knew that monsters were not human; that there were no redeeming qualities to be found in the creatures they hunted. John grit his teeth against the anger that bloomed in his chest at Sam. They were gonna have a long talk when he got back, John decided. It would end up as a fight between them he was sure, but there was no way that John was gonna let Sam continue to mess with his little brother’s head like this. Sam ought to know better than to bring up these kinds of questioning ideas to Adam. Not after what the kid had been through. John shook his head at the thought of his middle son’s insensitivity. Sam could be so bullheaded in his own quest to understand and justify their world that he hadn’t considered that letting Adam believe all monsters were pure evil would be a kindness to the kid.

‘For Christ sakes’ John thought. Adam didn’t need to question the motive of monsters that killed his mother. He didn’t need to think about the fact that they wanted revenge for the killing of their own parent. He didn’t need to know they had motive at all. All Adam needed to know is that monsters are evil and Winchesters extinguish evil. He could sift through the philosophy of it all when he was an adult and had the experience and maturity to see all the sides of the argument. Right now, he was just a kid. And the kid deserved to believe that a bad thing killed his mom for no other reason than it was a bad thing.

“Adam,” John said again, bringing Adam’s eyes back to his own, “You listen to me. What we hunt- they are not human. Not in any way. You understand?”

“Yes sir,” Adam said seriously.

“Alright then,” John said, satisfied with his son’s answer. “We’re gonna go stop by the police station first, they’ve got the husband in custody and I wanna ask him a few more questions.”

/-/-/-/-/-/-

The Hartsville police station was a small nondescript government building, all one level and as grey as the rain clouds threatening overhead. Adam grimaced as they pulled into the parking lot. The grim look of the precinct wasn’t helping to renew the enthusiasm he’d lost on the drive from their motel.

They pulled into a parking spot near the door and Dad reached down beside Adam to grab his suit coat.

“Remember the drill?” He questioned, eyeing his son seriously.

“Keep my mouth shut and my eyes open,” Adam said fired back, sitting up a little straighter in the cab of the truck, a knee jerk reaction to Dad’s tone.

“Good boy,” Dad said with a satisfied nod. “Grab your backpack.”

Adam handed Dad the case folder he’d been studying during their drive and reached down to the floorboard for his backpack before opening the creaking truck door.

Dad’s cover for the case was an FBI agent and he’d said that if anyone asked it was ‘take your kid to work day’ and Adam was supposed to be working on a paper about his Dad’s job. Adam knew it was silly, but he wished he could have a cooler cover story than kid-with-school-assignment’. He really wanted an ID badge with a cool name on it at least. Dean was always coming up with awesome names to put on the badges they created, today Dad’s said Agent Henley. Like Don Henley from the Eagles, the band Dad liked. Adam couldn’t wait until he got a fake badge and would get to make up his own agent name. He was thinking he might like to be Agent Ash, like that guy from those creepy Evil Dead movies that he and Dean watched on tv last weekend.

Adam followed closely behind his father as they walked into the police station, Dad politely nodding at the few uniformed officers as they passed. Striding up to the tall reception counter in the middle of the lobby, Dad opened his suit coat and pulled out his fake badge from his breast pocket.

“I’m here to see Detective Stanholt,” he said with practiced ease and confidence.

The young officer behind the desk gave a curt nod and picked up the phone on the desk, speaking quietly into the receiver for a few moments before nodding toward Dad.

“You can go on back,” he said, nodding to the double doors on the right side of the lobby.

Pushing a button under the desk Adam heard a loud robotic buzz and followed as Dad strode over and opened the door, ushering him inside.

Adam was absolutely amazed at how easy it was for Dad to walk into a police station and flash a fake badge. Not once was there a waver in his voice or even a second of hesitation. That officer at the reception desk didn’t even flinch at Dad’s blatant lie. It was no shock to Adam that his Dad carried an air of unquestionable authority, he’d felt it held over himself and his brothers enough times to understand its intensity, but it was fascinating to watch a stranger fall into line with Dad’s expectations. Adam was really beginning to understand what Dad meant when he said during training that ‘confidence was everything’.

Adam trailed after his father down the utilitarian cinder block hallway to the area that he knew from tv was the ‘bullpen’ of the police station. On tv the bullpen was full of desks and people and lots of hustle and bustle and excitement. Standing in the Hartsville police bullpen Adam felt he might as well have been at an insurance collectors office. There were only five desks scattered around the area and a few uniformed officers standing around chatting calmly over styrofoam cups of coffee. There were no ‘perps’ being dragged in, cursing and fighting. No lawyers striding in with indignation and importance. There weren’t even any badass looking officers or detectives, who looked like they might not play by the rules. It was totally boring, lame and not at all what Adam had hoped for. 

He followed his father over to one of the desks in the corner to find an average looking man in a rumpled grey suit sitting behind an ancient desktop computer so large that it was taking up the guy's entire desk, forcing him to hold his keyboard in his lap to type.

“Detective Stanholt,” Dad called as he approached the man.

The Detective acknowledged Dad with a nod and stood up, placing the dusty looking keyboard on the top of the computer monitor.

“Agent. Back again?” he asked, straightening his suit coat.

“Got a few follow up questions for Mr. Hill. He’s still in your custody, correct?”

“Yes sir. He’s not being transported until this afternoon. I can have him put in room two for you if you like,”

“That’d be great,” Dad said with an appreciative nod at the Detective, “Any new developments on your end?”

The Detective shook his head, “No sir, still just as big of a damn mess as it was yesterday. Pardon my language,” he said, seeming to notice Adam for the first time.

Dad gave the Detective a politely amused smile, “Detective, this is my son Adam. He’s shadowing me for a school paper today,” he explained, placing a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you son,” the Detective said, looking down at him with a genuine smile, “I’ll go and Hill ready for you, Agent.” He said to Dad.

“Thank you.”

The Detective grabbed his keys off his desk and hurried down one of the hallways behind them toward what Adam guessed was the actual jail part of the police station.

“Come on,” Dad said, using the hand that was still resting on Adam’s shoulder to steer him away from the Detective’s desk and out of the bullpen.

Adam let himself be let down another of the station’s many plain hallways, wondering how in the hell Dad seemed to know his way around a police station he’d only been inside once before today. They wound their way through the stark concrete hallways until they arrived at a small break room.

“You want something?” Dad asked.

Adam looked around the small room and eyed the two vending machines filled with chips and sugary snacks as well as the three coffee makers lined up on the counter. He was hoping for donuts, but it seemed to be typical of his luck that they managed to find the only police station in the world without the snack that was synonymous with law enforcement.

Adam shook his head, determined to follow Dad’s order to ‘keep his mouth shut’ and watched as Dad poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. Black, of course. Adam could never understand how his Dad could drink straight black coffee, even the thought of that bitterness made his stomach turn. He hated coffee the few times he’d had it, even though his father, and even his brothers, seemed to live on the stuff. Last time he was sick with a sore throat Dad had made Sam make him a cup in hopes the warm drink would soothe his pain, but no matter how much sugar and milk Sam put in the cup it still tasted terrible and Adam had to force himself to choke it down. 

Dad grabbed the cup and took a sip, seeming not to notice or care how hot the coffee was on his tongue and gave Adam a nod, indicating for him to follow again as they left the room.

Adam walked behind his father, trying to stay aware and pay attention like Dad always demanded, but he was getting bored already. So far, this day was feeling less like a real hunting mission and more like a boring day at Dad’s ‘real’ job.

They made their way down another hallway lined with rooms and Dad pulled them into one that had a number 2 on the door. Inside the room there was a large mirror on the wall and Adam got excited. This was like tv. A giant two way mirror looking into a small windowless room that held only two chairs and table.

Detective Stanholt was already waiting in the room and nodded to door on the opposite wall inside the small windowless room as it opened and a uniformed officer lead in a man shuffling along in handcuffs.

Dad gave another appreciative nod at Detective Stanholt and then turned to Adam. “Stay here and keep your ears open,” he said.

Adam gave a nod of understanding and moved closer to the two-way mirror, unable to hold back from examining it anymore.

Behind him the adults chatted about the case and even though Adam knew he should be listening and paying attention, he couldn’t. He was too enthralled with the mirror and the interrogation room. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as some of the ones on the police shows he watched with Dean, but it wasn’t too far from it either. He watched as the uniformed officer helped the man sit down and then took the handcuffs he wore off one wrist before reconnecting it the bar that was running the length of the table that sat in the room.

Adam studied the man- the suspect- he mentally corrected himself. He knew all about Steven Hill from the case files. He’d already seen his mug shot and read through the man’s original statements that police took on the day of the murder. Adam really felt bad for the guy. Looking at him it was clear he was in over his head. He was slumped in the chair, leaning against the table as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. He was wearing the orange jumpsuit given to him by the officers at the jail and Adam wasn’t sure if bright orange was just not the guys colors or what, but his face was sallow and pale with a sickly yellowish sheen.

“Adam,” Dad said firmly, startling Adam from his study of the man, “Eyes open.”

Adam gave his father a brief nod, biting back his automatic “yes sir” that rose in his in throat. Dad gave a nod in return and walked into the interrogation room where the man was being held, leaving Adam on the other side of the two way mirror with Detective Stanholt.

“You excited to watch your Dad, son?” Detective Stanholt asked him, clearly trying to make polite conversation.

Adam bit his lip, not wanting to be rude to the Detective but also not wanting to disregard Dad’s orders about keeping his mouth shut.

“Yes sir,” Adam finally said, hoping that the Detective would stop the questioning there so that he didn’t have to risk Dad overhearing him talking when he was supposed to be listening to the interrogation.

“Seems like he’s pretty experienced at this kinda stuff,” the Detective continued, much to Adam’s chagrin.

“Uh-huh.” Adam said, taking a step closer to the two way mirror and leaning in, trying to ignore the Detective without actually being rude.

Thankfully the Detective did seem to take notice of Adam’s interested in his father’s work and backed off saying “I’ll let him do his thing then,”

Adam breathed a sigh of relief and focused back on Dad and the suspect inside the room. He’d missed whatever introductions or whatever they had exchanged during his brief distraction with Detective Stanholt and now struggled to make sense of what they were talking about.

“You gotta believe me sir,” the suspect was pleading, dark circles under his eyes as he stared up at Dad who was casually sitting on the edge of the table in front of him, “I swear on my life I didn’t do this,”

Dad stood up and walked around the table, pulling out the unused chair across from the suspect and sat down.

“Steven, I believe you,” he said, staring at the man earnestly.

“You do? You really do?” he man questioned in disbelief.

“I do.” Dad confirmed, “But I need you to tell me everything about what happened the night before. Did you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary? With your wife? Any of your friends?”

Steven was quiet for a moment, taking in Dad’s words and began to speak slowly.

“I mean…She was acting kinda strange. She’d be sorta distant for a while now, but I figured that was due to the miscarriage you know? But yeah that night she was really freaked out. She didn’t say anything to me, but she seemed really stressed out and… I... I don’t know I just wanted to give her some space. That’s why I went to the bar with Joey and Ted. Figured she could use some time to unwind.”

“Ok,” Dad said nodding and studying Kevin’s face, “Anything else?”

“Umm, well the neighbor’s dog was going crazy. That was kinda weird. He’s usually a really quiet, really good dog. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him bark like he was then. But I mean… that’s not really anything.”

“It’s something.,” Dad assured him.

Adam wished that Dad would say more to this guy. Explain something. Apologize for it happening. Anything. The poor guy just looked so terrible and seeing him suffer made Adam feel so bad.

Adam listened as Dad casually moved on to asking questions about Steven’s friends, his wife’s friends, people that they each worked with. Adam wasn’t quite sure what the questions Dad was asking might have to do with a murdering shapeshifter, but whatever Dad was doing it he was doing it seamlessly. Watching Dad talk with Steven sort of felt like an out of body experience, it felt like Adam wasn’t watching his Dad at all. Dad wasn’t gruff or short with Steven, the way he was with Adam and his brothers. He still sounded authoritative, but there was softness in his tone, a subversive kindness that Adam didn’t often hear from his drill sergeant of a father. Dad leaned on the table with interest and gradually and respectfully asked questions, asked Steven to explain details.

He asked.

Dad never asked. He demanded. He ordered. But he never asked.

It was unnerving to see this side of his father. Adam realized there was so much of his Dad that he would probably never understand. Before his mom had… well before… before when Dad would come to visit he was the same guy Adam saw before him now: fun and talkative, normal and kind. He’d buzz into town and take Adam out to a baseball game and bring over wine and flowers for his mom. Adam would fall asleep to the sounds of Dad and Mom talking downstairs while they cuddled on the couch, the quiet sound of soft laughter between them. It was a sound Adam didn’t know he’d forgotten. Certainly the man he knew as his Dad now would never cuddle, would never whisper and laugh. Dad was all rough edges now. He was all demands and worries, plans and defenses. But seeing Dad talk to Kevin, Adam was reminded that there was still a part of Dad that was nice and normal and kind. That he could still be that person when he wanted to be. So why couldn’t he be that way for Adam? For his brothers?

Distracted by his thoughts Adam missed whatever the last few questions Dad had asked Steven were and was surprised to hear that they were wrapping up. Dad stood and thanked the man for his time, as if he’d had a choice to be there in the first place, and a few moments later walked back into the room with Adam.

Adam felt himself come to life with questions for his father. Why did he act that way? How did he turn on that niceness? Was it real? Was it an act? Did Dad actually feel bad for Kevin the same way that Adam did? Why didn’t he say anything more to the guy? Offer some sympathy or an explanation?

“Dad! I….” Adam started.

“What did I say?” Dad snapped, disapproval clear in his voice. 

Adam huffed and snapped his jaw shut. Of course he’d find a way to screw up Dad’s rules. He was doing so good before too.

“We’ll talk outside,” Dad said harshly, turning his back on Adam and walking out of the small room clearly assuming that Adam would follow.

And of course Adam did follow his father. They went back to the bullpen where Dad had a brief discussion with Detective Stanholt about the case and Adam gave the compulsory smile and nod when the Detective wished him good luck on his school paper.

Adam silently followed his father out of the police station and back out to his truck, seething at being reprimanded so harshly, especially after seeing Dad be so nice to a guy who was cuffed to a table in a police station.

Dad took off his suit coat and threw it across the bench seat in the cab of the truck before climbing in himself. He reached down under the seat to pull out a pad of paper and pen and began to jot down notes.

“So you think he’s lying?” Dad asked Adam, not looking up from his writing.

Adam was quiet for a moment, still pissed but knowing that not answering his father’s direct question would only get him in more trouble.

“No. I don’t think so,” he said.

“Why?” Dad asked, stopping writing to look at his son.

Suddenly Adam felt put on the spot and his stomach clenched under the intensity of Dad’s stare.

He took a deep breath and thought back to the interrogation, trying to use the tips and tricks that Sam and Dean had taught him about spotting a lie.

“Well, the way he answered your questions seemed natural: not too fast like he had prepared for them and also not too slow like he had to think of something to say. And he always looked at you when he answered, so he wasn’t looking around the room trying to make something up.” Adam explained, remembering Sam’s lesson.

“And I just don’t think he’s lying,” Adam said with determination, remembering Dean’s most important lesson: go with your gut.

“Alright.” Dad said with a nod of agreement.

Alright? Well it wasn’t a ‘good job’ or ‘nice going son’ but it was something that wasn’t outright criticism so Adam would take it.

“Now what do we do?” Adam asked as Dad dug out his keys and started up the truck.

“We’re gonna hit the morgue,”

Choosing to brush off his father’s less than satisfactory response to his awesome skills, Adam decided lighten the mood.

“So can I use a fake name this time?”

“Adam.”

“Aw come on Dad!” Adam pleaded good-naturedly.

“There’s no need to confuse things, son” Dad answered patiently.

“But you get a fake name….”

“A fake last time,” Dad explained, keeping his eyes on the road, “I still use John as my first name,”

“Why? That’s so boring.” Adam asked.

Dad raised his eyebrows at Adam’s tone, but ignored his son’s impertinence.

“Son, you really wanna be caught off guard when someone calls your fake name and you don’t respond? Better to use your real first name and not take the chance.”

Adam shrugged in agreement, “Yeah I guess.”

They were quiet for a while, listening to the sounds of the road.

“I’d be Chad O’Toole” Adam said smiling, “Cause every Chad is a tool,” he continued, smiling to himself about his own joke.

Dad gave him a wry glance and didn’t respond, shaking his head at Adam’s lame attempt at humor.

‘Dean would have got it’ Adam thought, rolling his eyes and looking out the window as the county morgue came into view.


	25. Interviews Part 2

John stole a glance across the cab of the truck at his youngest son, who was silently staring out the window. He was pleased at how the morning had gone so far. Adam was properly polite, respectful and obedient during their time at the police station. It was a load off John’s mind to know that he could take Adam out onto these types of interviews without having to worry about his son shooting off at the mouth and blowing their cover.

And Adam had done a great job with the interrogation too. John was relieved to see that apparently the boy had been paying attention to at least one thing his brothers were teaching him. Maybe dealing with the human element of hunting cases would be more in Adam’s wheelhouse, since he was still falling embarrassingly short on the supernatural end of things.

Thinking of the human element reminded John of where they were headed. This would be Adam’s first trip to the morgue, although John knew, not his first time seeing a dead body.

John sighed deeply to himself, doubting his decision to bring Adam in to see the victim. Part of him realized that Adam would need to get used to this unpleasant side of hunting and that this case would be a good stepping stone. The other part of him, the fatherly side that still worried about his child, reminded him that Adam was only 12 and the last dead body he had seen was his own mother’s on the day she died.

John looked over at his son once again, glancing at his still childlike features. Had Sam ever looked this innocent? Had Dean? He honestly couldn’t remember. It seemed like his older boys had grown up with a hardness in their eyes that Adam didn’t yet have. Yes, Adam still had a deep-seated sadness that lingered, but not the jaded edge that he’d seen staring back at him from the backseat of the Impala all these years. It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. Dean, traumatized as a preschooler and burdened with responsibility beyond his years, had developed a suspicious stare that questioned anyone not in his immediate family. And Sam had been an old soul from the time he was born. Even as in infant John and Mary would joke that baby Sam was working out the problems of the world as he furrowed his tiny forehead and studied everyone with a thoughtful gaze and skeptical eyes.

Having grown up in a stable home with Kate, Adam was less broken then his older boys and for that John was infinitely thankful. At least Adam was given 12 years of normal before being tossed into the unforgiving world where the Winchesters now lived.

But that also caused problems.

Adam was soft. He was sensitive. He was out of shape and unable to protect himself from the things that would target him just for his name. All John really wanted was what was best for his boys. And now seeing how defenseless Adam was, he wondered if leaving him and Kate alone in their apple pie life was really the kindness he thought it was. If John had manned up, if he had told Kate the truth, if he had taken them away and on the road with Sam and Dean maybe she’d still be alive, maybe Adam would be better prepared, hell maybe Sam and Dean wouldn’t be so damaged if Kate had been able to raise them.

John grimaced and pushed away the thoughts. It didn’t matter now. Kate was gone. Adam was here. Sam and Dean were what they were. And it was all John’s doing.

For a man who spent his life trying to fight all the bad in the world, he sure did a hell of a lot of bad himself. 

He was right to bring Adam into the morgue, he decided. He’d have to prep the kid and be as understanding as he could about Adam’s reaction, but better the boy take this step with his father by his side then alone later. The short life span of hunters weighed heavily on John most days and forced him to push his sons harder than he would have liked in their training. The thought of leaving them alone and vulnerable made John physically ill and he spent most of his time trying to control the lingering fear. 

“Adam, you know where we’re going?” John asked, testing the waters to see what Adam’s reaction might be.

“Yes sir. The county morgue,”

John nodded in approval; “I spoke to the medical examiner yesterday. She said the full autopsy report would be available today.”

Adam nodded seriously taking in his father’s words.

Hating himself a little more than he already did, John pushed on.

“We’re gonna take a look at the victim,” he said, glancing away from the road to watch Adam’s reaction.

Adam looked unfazed and nodded, “Ok.”

Great, John thought with a sigh. Kid has no clue what he’s getting into.

“It’s gonna be a little different then seeing the crime scene photos,” John pressed, trying to make his point clear, “and it's not gonna be like tv,”

“Yeah I know,” Adam said simply, brushing off his Dad’s serious tone.

John frowned and ran a hand behind his neck, rubbing the taunt muscles there. He didn’t really know another way to try to prepare his boy for what he was going to see and how he might feel. He thought about pressing harder, trying to explain more to make Adam understand, but in the end he couldn’t find the words.

“Ok then,” John said with finality as they pulled into the parking lot of the coroner’s office, a small stand-alone building adjacent to the county’s health department. John appreciated when the morgue was in its own building, often times he’d find himself in the basement of the office of public health or searching the hallways of the emergency management office looking for the coroner.

John killed the engine in the truck and pulled out the key, leaning over and grabbing his suit coat from next to his son.

“Adam…” he started.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know,” Adam said briskly, cutting him off, “Eyes open, mouth shut.” He said as he opened the door and jumped down out of the cab.

John scowled at his boy’s attitude, mentally adding another line in the tally of disrespect he’d endured from Adam this morning. One more and he’d be adding lines the boy’s backside before they were on their way back to the motel. God, if Adam was this mouthy as a pre-teen, what the hell was John in for when he was a full-fledged teenager? John shook his head at the frightening thought of having another Sam Winchester on his hands, before opening his own door and sliding out of the truck.

Adam glanced at the short, plain brick building with disinterest. For as excited as he was to tag along to the police station and watch an interrogation, he was as equally not excited to visit the morgue.

He wasn’t nervous about seeing the victim. He’d seen plenty of the weird crap that Dad and his brothers had killed when he was helping to burn or bury the remains. And as much as he was interested in medicine and hoped to be a doctor one day, he just couldn’t bring himself to be excited about seeing a dead body. He knew he wanted to become a doctor to help people, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to help an already dead person.

What Adam really wanted to do was go back and talk to more people: the suspect’s friends, the victim’s friends, the bartender. He wanted to go and see the crime scene. All the cool badass stuff they did on tv. Talking to the medical examiner was always some dumb plot device in the shows that he and Dean watched. Adam just wanted to get back to investigating. He wanted to see Dad be bad cop, see him intimidate people and force them into admitting the truth. He wanted to see Dad be tough, not all soft and sweet like he was back at the police station. Dad was supposed to be a badass. He should be throwing people around an interrogation room, demanding answers and yelling orders like he did with Adam and his brothers. It would sure as hell make Adam feel a lot better if he did.

They were probably wasting their time here anyway. The shapeshifter could be anyone if it was even still in town. And as far as Adam was concerned looking at the victim and reading the autopsy report wasn’t gonna help them track the killer any faster.

Adam trailed after his father, anger, and resentment over Dad’s tactics in the interrogation room bubbling back up inside his chest despite his earlier attempts to brush it off. As they opened the door into the front lobby of the county coroner’s office Adam’s senses were overloaded with the acrid scent of ammonia and strong cleaning chemicals.

“Ugh,” he grumbled sourly, unable to help himself and earning a deep glare from his father.

The place looked exactly like every other government building Adam had been in lately. Plain and unadorned except for the lazily chosen, absolutely out of place artwork on the walls: one a framed print of a faded garden scene, the other a light blue print in a white frame of a small ship sailing calm seas into the sunset, neither of which looked like they belonged in an office building, much less the morgue.

There was no one at the main desk of the room, only a small note taped haphazardly to the counter, telling the reader to pick up the phone and dial 2 for assistance.

Dad read the note and casually picked up the receiver dialing the required number, giving his fake name and requesting to see the medical examiner. A few moments later a now somewhat familiar robotic buzz sounded and Dad lead Adam through a door to the left of the lobby desk and down a short hallway.

“The body’s still in the examine room. They are prepping it to send to the funeral home,” Dad explained as they walked.

Adam nodded, feeling a sudden twist in his gut that he didn’t expect. His heart began to race a little and he unconsciously slowed his steps.

John noticed his son’s slow pace and cut his eyes to the side, taking stock of the boy.

Adam had been fine until he mentioned the examine room, or maybe it was the mention of the funeral home that got him. The boy had gone a pale, his small smattering of freckles now standing out across his nose.

“Adam?” John questioned, pausing in the hallway. “You’re ok.”

John watched as Adam’s breathing became more rapid and sweat began to bead against his hairline.

It was the ropes all over again.

Training Adam on escape methods had been a long, miserable experience for all the Winchester men. Anytime John would hold the boy’s wrists and start winding the rope Adam damn near looked like he was gonna pass out. It was only with weeks of training that John had been able to drive Adam to overcome his fear.

John turned and stepped in front of his son, leaning down and gently grabbing the boy by the chin, forcing him to look up and meet his father’s eyes.

“You are ok.” John repeated again slowly, “Just breathe.”

Adam swallowed hard and took in a shaky breath, nodding slightly in his father’s hold.

John studied his boy and suddenly decided there was no reason to force Adam to go into the room to see the body. He could stand in the hallway outside, looking through the large glass window just as he had done at the police station. There was no reason that John had to force him to be up close and personal with something that was no doubt gonna give the kid nightmare again. He knew Sam and Dean would certainly appreciate not being woken up to screaming at 3 am for the foreseeable future. 

“Adam…” John started softly, struggling to find the words to comfort his son.

“Agent?” came a call from down the hallway, interrupting John’s thoughts.

Frowning, John turned away from his frightened boy and pasted a pleasant smile on his face, sliding easily back into his role. He turned to face a young woman, brown hair pinned back into a low bun at her neck, her white lab coat rusting in the breeze she created as she walked towards him down the hallway.

“Yes, Agent Henley,” John confirmed, reaching into his breast pocket with experienced effortlessness to pull out and flash the badge that Dean had made for him three days earlier.

“I’m Danielle Hines, the pathology assistant,” she said, reaching a hand out.

John took her hand with a polite shake, trying to ignore Adam’s soft strangled breathing behind him.

“I’m here to see Dr. Stamper,” he said, “She said the Hill autopsy report would be ready today,”

“Oh sure,” the young lady replied with a smile, “Dr. Stamper is out today, but I can get the report for you,”

John nodded agreeably, thankful for the woman’s compliance. With Adam freaking out in the background John was not prepared to put on the full song and dance routine he sometimes had to perform if his qualifications were questioned. 

“The body is in exam one,” the woman said, turning and gesturing to the door closest behind them. “I was just finishing up in there, so it’s available if you want to take a look,”

“That’d be great,” John said with another nod of approval. 

Hearing a deep, shaky breathe from behind him, John realized he had yet to explain his son’s presence to the assistant.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said with a charismatic smile, “How rude of me. This is my son Adam. He’s been tagging along with me today on the case. He’s writing a paper for school for career day, but I think this part of the job might have him a little rattled.”

John watched as Danielle tilted her head to look behind John where Adam was still standing, frozen to the spot.

“Oh, I understand.” She said with a sweet smile, “This place can be pretty overwhelming. I can take him back out to the lobby if that would help,”

John debated, not liking the idea of leaving Adam alone for any amount of time in a town where a monster was on the loose, but a quick look down at his pale and trembling son broke his resolve to keep Adam anywhere near the victim.

“I think that’s probably for the best,” he said, eyes still on Adam.

The young woman smiled again and moved toward Adam, leaving John a clear path to the exam room.

“I’ll just take him up there and then I’ll grab that report for you,” she said.

John nodded again and watched as the woman placed a gentle hand on Adam’s shoulder and led him back down the hallway and towards the double doors of the lobby.

Adam only distantly realized what was happening. He was walking again. He knew that much. But his vision was still blacking out around the edges and the blood was still pumping loudly in his ears, making it hard for him to make out the inane chatter of the lady beside him.

As the doors of the lobby opened the harsh scent of chemicals shook Adam from his daze and he realized that Dad was no longer with him.

“My… uh… dad?” he questioned in confusion.

“He’s got a little work to do back there. He’ll be out soon,” the young woman said gently, studying Adam.

“Yeah…” Adam said, nodding as she led him over to a collection of three chairs under the misplaced sailboat picture.

“I know this place can be a little much,” she said, gesturing for him to sit and sitting down in one of the other seats.

Adam just nodded dumbly, becoming aware that his head was starting to feel normal, not like it was going to float off his shoulders like it had a few moments ago.

“So your Dad is FBI huh?” the woman said, “Seems like a neat job.”

Adam shrugged; his focus more on calming the rolling that still had his stomach on edge, then whatever this lady wanted to chat about.

“Does that mean you aren’t from around here?” she asked.

“No,” Adam answered, watching the tiles on the floor with interest, hoping that the harder he concentrated on them the less likely he’d be to barf all over them.

“So where are you from?” the lady asked politely.

“Nowhere,” Adam said, still staring hard at the floor, intently focusing on the small flecks of color within each tile.

“Nowhere?” she asked in surprise.

The surprise in her voice awoke Adam from his stupor and he blinked and looked at her, “Sorry, no I’m from Minnesota,”

“Oh, pretty cold there.”

“Yeah….” Adam mumbled, turning back to the floor and wishing she’d just go already.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked conversationally, leaning toward Adam and trying to catch his eye.

“Yeah. Two big brothers,” Adam answered with disinterest, starting to count the little colored flecks in the floor.

“Guess they are back in Minnesota, huh?” the lady asked.

“Huh?” Adam said looking up at her and all of a sudden noticing how intently she was studying him.

“Your brothers? Are they in Minnesota? Or are there here?” she said, pushing a little.

Ok. That’s a weird question, Adam thought. “Uh, no they’re in college. One in Boston, one in New York,” he easily lied.

“That’s nice,” the woman said, returning to her polite conversational tone, “So just you and your Dad here then huh? That’s kinda fun.”

“Yeah…” Adam replied skeptically, beginning to forget the nausea that was lingering in his stomach. This lady was acting weird. She looked totally normal, maybe a little nerdy, but now that Adam was paying attention it seemed like she was nervous.

The lady cleared her throat abruptly as if sensing Adam’s unease “Well I ought to go and get that report for your dad. Don’t wanna keep the FBI waiting.”

“Yeah…” Adam said again, studying her as she smoothed her hair, tucking a wayward strand back behind her ear and standing up quickly, straightening her shirt and lab coat.

Adam watched as she hurried away, taking one last scrutinizing look at him before swiping a key card that was attached to her lab coat at the double doors next to the lobby desk.

Weirdo. Adam thought, rolling his eyes and going back to counting the floor tiles. At least the lady’s strangeness had distracted Adam’s brain from the stomach-churning panic that immobilized him in the hallway. He was still feeling edgy though, tense and jittery as the unneeded adrenaline reabsorbed back into his body. Dad better hurry up. Adam was ready to get out of this damn place.

When Adam was on tile fleck 3,225 the lock on the double doors finally clicked and he looked up to see Dad striding toward him, a new manila folder in hand and an ill-tempered frown on his face.

Great. Adam thought. Guess that went well.

He silently followed Dad out to the truck, but before he could touch the door to open it he felt a soft, heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dad said, gently turning him around, “You ok now?”

Adam swallowed. The panic was gone and the jitteriness it left behind had finally subsided, but he was still feeling a strange ache of discomfort that he couldn’t explain.

“Yeah,” he lied, “I’m fine.”

If he had learned nothing else from his brothers, it was that more often than not it was better to man up, shake it off and shut the hell up about it.

“Alright,” Dad said, staring at him in a way that made Adam believe that he probably knew Adam wasn’t really fine, but he didn’t want to get into it. Maybe it was Dad being nice, trying not to butt into Adam’s business or push him if he didn’t want to open up, but it felt a lot more like Dad being glad he didn’t have to deal with Adam’s drama.

Dad reached around him and opened the truck door for him, ushering him inside before walking around to open his own door.

Adam watched as Dad took off his suit coat and threw it across the bench seat, the arm of the jacket landing causally across Adam’s lap. Dad took a moment to put the manila envelope he’d been carrying down on the seat, leaning into the cab a little bit.

“Adam,” he asked his voice low and quiet, as he leaned in moving the folder from the seat to the floor, “Is she at the window?”

Adam knew instantly that “she” was the assistant they’d met and he quickly looked up, sure enough seeing just a sliver of white hovering on one side of the front window of the medical examiner’s building.

He looked down and away, back to the manila folder Dad still had a hand on, “Yeah she is,”

Dad continued to casually get settled. He stood in the open door of the cab of the truck and slowly rolled up one of his shirt sleeves, taking his time, “I’m gonna keep talking to you,” he said, “talk to me, but watch her.”

“Ok,” Adam said, nervously shifting in his seat a little, keeping the front window in his peripheral vision.

“You wanna get lunch?” Dad said in a louder, but more normal voice.

Adam just shrugged his disinterest as he watched the woman’s head poke out a little at the sound of Dad’s question.

“I know this was a lot for you Adam,” Dad continued, taking his time to unbutton the cuff of his shirt sleeve, “but you are really doing a great job.”

Wait. What?

Immediately Adam’s focus shifted from the woman in the window and he zeroed in on his father, not believing what he was hearing.

Dad’s eyes were hard as he looked directly back at Adam and Adam knew Dad was telepathing him to keep focused on the woman, but he didn’t want to, not when Dad was saying things he’d never thought he’d hear.

“Maybe we could find a decent taco joint around here huh?” Dad continued, his voice soft and natural, more Agent Henley then John Winchester. “Or maybe burgers? Its whatever you want kiddo,”

Adam fought to keep a neutral expression on top of the shock and disbelief of Dad’s kind words. This was the way he used to talk. This was the Dad that Adam remembered from his childhood visits. When it was all “hey kiddo,” and “up to you sport,” nothing like the perpetually tired, grumpy, impatient man he’d been living with for the past year. Adam couldn’t remember the last time that Dad had asked his opinion on anything, even something as simple as what he wanted to eat. Maybe it was being the last in a line of growing boys, but Adam’s wants on what meal they might eat came well down the line of what Sam or Dean wanted and he usually had to fight pretty hard for it. And even then Dad would lay down the law before an argument got heated, deciding abruptly what they’d eat and ending whatever dispute had started, regardless of what any boy wanted.

Dad narrowed his eyes slightly at Adam, a move that would have been imperceivable from a distance, but was strong enough to snap Adam back to the job at hand. Not moving his head or body, Adam cut his eyes to the side and watched the front window of the building, where the assistant still stood, one eye peeking out and watching them.

“I don’t care, Dad,” Adam said, remembering to keep up the ruse and answer his father’s question.

Dad had finished rolling up his sleeves and nodded, “Let’s go and see what we can find then,” he answered, stepping up into the truck and slamming the door.

Adam now turned in his seat to face the building, feeling blindly for his seatbelt as he watched the woman duck back out of sight.

Dad started the Sierra with a roar and clicked his own seatbelt into place. His eyes still glued to the window, Adam absently fiddled with the truck window, pretending to roll it down while Dad backed the truck out of the parking spot.

Dad pulled out of the parking lot slowly and Adam caught another glimpse of the lady’s face and the edge of her white coat from his side mirror as they pulled away.

“Why’s she watching us Dad?” he finally asked, as they turned onto the main road.

“I’m not sure son,” Dad answered distractedly, looking back at the building in his rearview, “but I know we sure as hell aren’t gonna stop watching her,”

“Huh?”

Dad didn’t answer, instead kept an eye on the building as they drove slowly away, taking the first available right turn.

Suddenly, Dad pulled the truck over and stopped, “Hop out.” He ordered.

“What?” Adam asked, stunned at the command.

“Get out.” Dad said, with a steely look that left no room for disobedience “Walk back toward the morgue. Stay out of sight. Call me if she leaves the building. We need eyes on her.”

“Me?” Adam squeaked in frightened disbelief.

“You’re wasting time. Go. Now.” Dad said, his voice deep and hurried.

“Ok. Ok,” Adam said in confusion, hurrying to unfasten his seatbelt with one hand and opening the truck door with the other.

He slid down out of the truck and stood in the grass at the side of the road, closing the door just before Dad pulled off. Adam stood dumbly at the side of the road, staring as Dad’s truck faded into the distance. As the shock started to recede, his heart began to race and the adrenaline that had faded away rushed back with such force that his knees almost buckled.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth Adam tried to channel Dean. Dean wouldn’t be scared to be alone. Dean would just do what Dad said. ‘Dad has a reason’, Dean would say, ‘Dad will come back’.

Please God let Dad come back, Adam thought, feeling his stomach clench with fear.

Fighting his own terror Adam decided he had to follow Dean’s advice and follow Dad’s orders. It's not like he had a better idea anyway. He swallowed his nerves and turned back in the direction of the county morgue. After a few feet, he was able to see the back of the building and he hustled to get closer, staying near the tree line in the back of the building.

/

John didn’t want to leave Adam on watch. He didn’t want the boy alone at all. But the chips were down and as much as he hated it, Adam was his partner on this case and they needed a new ride if they were going to be able to keep tabs on that squirrely assistant.

John started hearing the hunter alarm bells ringing when she brought him that report. Something about the way she talked about the victim, the way she looked at the body. There was something up and John had a sneaking suspicion that the shape-shifter-lover-done-wrong was standing right in front of him.

He had to be sure though. He couldn’t outright test the woman, all he had with him was his silver knife and as charming and charismatic as he might be, he doubted there was a way he could pull a knife and not send the woman screaming, shapeshifter or not.

He kicked himself for letting this potential monster be alone with his son. He should have trusted his gut, but the kid’s ashen, panicked face worried him and John knew that Adam needed to get out of that hallway before he had a full-blown episode.

Right now though he had to get a car and get back to his kid as fast as he could. John’s pulse thumped in his throat as he found a busy fast food restaurant, parking in the back and ditching his truck, taking only moments to grab a few things from the bed he hoped he wouldn’t need. He jogged away from the truck, scanning the nearby store parking lots and settling on a beige sedan parked under a tree. It was likely the car of an employee of the Quick n Stop. Only people who knew their car would be there all day would bother to park so far away from the door of the store and under a tree, so the car probably wouldn’t be missed until a lot later in the day, a fact John was counting on when he popped the lock and hotwired it.

Nearly shaking with the need to get eyes back on his son, John raced back to the county morgue, slowing to the speed limit when he reached the road it was on. He slowed down and watched the area around the building, searching for Adam. Part of him was relieved that his son was not in plain sight, satisfied that his boy was learning some of the hunters skills he so desperately needed. But not seeing Adam right away also lodged a stone of fear in John’s throat and made him grip the wheel of the sedan so tightly he hoped it wouldn’t snap.

He parked the car several buildings down from the morgue and casually walked behind the building, making his way into the trees and scrub that lined the area. He hurried through the underbrush, scanning the trees until he saw the back of Adam’s blonde head leaning against a tree.

Quietly working his way up the boy, he whistled lowly, hoping to get Adam’s attention without startling him.

Adam perked up at the familiar sound of the Winchester whistle. Dad had taught him the family whistle early on, instructing him of the importance of being able to communicate without words. At the time he was interested, but confused as to why he’d need to learn to identify whistles and code words and hand gestures, but now standing in the underbrush nervously staring at a brick building for reasons he didn’t understand, he was glad he paid attention.

Dad waved for Adam to come and Adam obeyed, following Dad back to the nearby parking lot and an unfamiliar car.

“Dad?” Adam questioned warily as they approached the sedan Adam didn’t recognize.

“Not now Adam,” Dad said, striding over to the car and getting in like this was the car he got into and drove to work every day, not just one that appeared randomly.

Adam realized his mouth was hanging open in shock and he quickly clamped his jaw shut, biting down on all the fear and confusion that was swirling around him. 

He opened the sedan door and slid in, grabbing the seatbelt and clicking it home before realizing that Dad was fiddling under the steering wheel of the car. He watched closely as Dad grabbed two frayed wires and easily rubbed them together causing the car to rumble to life.

It took a moment for Adam to realize that he just watched his father hotwire a car. It’s not something he was expecting to see. Although he’d been faced with all the crazy things John Winchester could do as part of his responsibility as a hunter, Adam never pictured hotwiring a car to be one of them. Dads aren’t supposed to know how to do that. Why did Dad know how to do that?  
Dad caught Adam watching his movements under the dash and gave a nod, “I’ll teach you,” he said with a reassuring half smile.

Adam couldn’t respond. He was still reconciling the idea that John Winchester, hunter, was not the same person as John Winchester, Dad.

With the stolen car started, Dad drove them back toward the morgue, scouting the area and finding a place across the street and partially behind a light pole and newspaper stand where he finally parked and shut the car off.

Adam was desperate to know what was going on, why they were in a stolen car, why Dad decided they needed to stalk this lady and why Adam had been dumped on the side of the street.

“Dad?” Adam questioned quietly, hesitant that his questions might somehow make Dad mad at him again.

“You didn’t see her leave the building right?” Dad asked, not looking at Adam as he searched the building, ignoring Adam’s questioning.

“No sir,” Adam responded, “I didn’t see her at all.”

Adam looked back at the county morgue building. It was just as boring and lackluster as it had been the first time he’d seen it, but now he searched the plain brick walls trying to see whatever it was that made Dad so anxious.

“I don’t understand. What are we doing? Why do we have this car?” Adam asked, trying to keep the petulant pleading from his voice.

Dad still didn’t look at him, “Surveillance son. That assistant was as squirrelly as anyone I’ve ever seen. I don’t trust her. I’m not letting her out of my sight until I know for sure she’s human.”

“Oh,” Adam responded. “How long will that take?”

Dad tore his eyes away from the building to scowl at Adam “As long as it takes.”

“Oh,” Adam said, dejectedly. “So… we just sit here?

“Yeah son,” Dad said, with an edge of frustration in his voice. “We sit here and watch. We make sure she doesn’t leave. And if she does leave we follow her.”

A light bulb suddenly went off in Adam’s head, “That’s why you got this car? So she doesn’t recognize us?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dad confirmed. “My truck is too damn conspicuous to be tailing someone. We needed something that would blend in.”

Adam nodded in approval of his father’s words. Damn Dad was smart.

“And you’ll teach me to steal cars?” Adam asked excitedly, suddenly realizing he was finally seeing some of the badass Dad he so desperately wanted.

Again Dad broke his stare of the building for a moment to grimace at Adam’s excitement, before turning back, speaking more to the windshield then his son.

“This is not a game Adam. It’s very real. Life or death. I’ll teach you to hotwire a car because you might need to get away someday. Not so you can steal cars for joy rides or to impress your friends. Everything I teach you is to prepare you for your life. You’re a hunter. The more you know, the longer you’ll live. If you don’t learn if you don’t pay attention it all ends. And it ends bad.”

The crushing weight of his father’s words stole Adam’s momentary excitement and left him with a deep-seated melancholy, one that seemed to appear all too often in his life these days.

It was silent in the car for a long time, until the soft pit-pat of raindrops began to fall on the hood of the car, spotting the windshield with moisture.

“Dad?” Adam asked, wishing he didn’t have to, “I gotta take a leak.”

“Ok. Go.” Dad said, giving him a quick sideways glance.

“Uh… where?”

Dad nodded to the grassy spot between the newspaper stands and telephone poll in front of the car.

“Are you serious?” Adam asked in surprise. He wasn’t squeamish about taking a piss outside, but in the rain, in the middle of a parking lot?

“Just stay behind the pole.” Dad said, “Stay out of the sightlines of the morgue.”

Adam just shook his head at Dad’s ‘helpful’ suggestion. If he didn’t think he was about two minutes from pissing his pants, he wouldn’t have even asked.

“There might be an empty bottle in the back seat you could use if you want,” Dad offered.

“No,” Adam answered immediately. As much as he didn’t wanna stand in the rain, exposed, he sure as hell didn’t wanna whip it out and try to pee in a bottle in front of his Dad.

Stifling a sigh of annoyance Adam opened the door and got out, trying to stay inconspicuous and in the area that was hidden. He quickly made his way to the pole and after a quick glance around to ensure they were mostly alone in the parking lot, he unzipped and let go.

Of course, that was the moment she walked out the front door of the building. Of course it was.

Mid-stream Adam ducked behind the telephone pole, frantically tucking himself back in and glancing at Dad’s surprised face behind the wheel of the stolen sedan. 

Dad only looked at Adam for a fraction of a second before his eyes were back on the morgue assistant and he was motioning for Adam to get down and crawl back to the car. Adam gave a curt nod and again thanked his past self for memorizing all the complicated military hand signals he’d been taught.

On hands and knees, Adam was hidden from view by the low metal newspaper stands and he was able to quickly make his way back to the car, keeping himself in a tight crouch as he let a hand up to grab the door handle and open the car door just an inch to climb inside.

Dad already had his hands under the dash and quickly got the car started, his eyes never leaving his target. Adam followed Dad’s stare and saw the young woman, her white coat across one arm as she walked toward a small blue car and got in.

Adam could feel his father’s urgency and tension as they sat motionless and watched as the woman started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Dad!” Adam said, watching as the car drove away, “Follow her!”

Dad continued to stare down the road, his eyes intently focused on the little blue car, “Just a minute Adam.”

“What? Why? Come on!” Adam screeched frantically.

“Hush boy!” Dad snapped.

Adam was bouncing uncontrollably in his seat, just wanting Dad to go, go, go.

Finally, Dad did back out of the parking spot and hastily pulled on to the main road, following the blue car which was now four cars in front of them, stopped at a red light.

“What the hell Dad?” Adam cried in annoyance “We’re gonna lose her!”

“Boy.” Dad cautioned, in a voice so deep and stern it instantly reminded Adam who he was talking to.

“We aren’t gonna lose her,” Dad said. His voice was firm and calm. The complete opposite of the frenzied, wild panic and excitement that was running through Adam right now, “When you tail somebody you always stay three or four cars back. If you’re right up on their ass they’re gonna know pretty damn quick they’re being followed,”

Oh.

“Where do you think she’s going?” Adam asked, more in awe of his father and his skills then he’d ever been before.

“Guess we’ll see,” Dad said, eyes still locked on the blue car and keeping a healthy distance between them.

They followed the assistant’s little blue car for several miles, riding in tense silence as they both stared down the vehicle.

“I don’t believe it,” Dad whispered in bewilderment, as they made a left-hand turn.

“What?” Adam asked, anticipation and fear making his voice crack.

“She’s going to the victim’s house,” Dad said taking an abrupt right turn that put them into a small neighborhood.

“Dad! She’s going that way!” Adam said, pointing down the opposite street.

“I know boy!” Dad ground out, “We’re parking behind the house!”

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.

Dad sped up and whipped down the neighborhood streets, stopping suddenly behind a house Adam’s didn’t recognize.

“Got your knife?” Dad said, momentarily stopping his wild movements to look directly at Adam.

“Uh-huh.” Adam nodded, feeling for the knife he kept hidden in the pocket of his sweat jacket.

Dad gave a terse nod and instantly became a blur of movement again. He threw open the car door, jumping out and opening the back door in what seemed like the same move. He grabbed something Adam couldn’t see and slammed the door again.

“Come on.” He demanded, and Adam realized he was still sitting motionless in the front seat with his seatbelt on.

Adam hurried to undo his seatbelt and opened the door, tumbling out of the car in his excitement and landing hard on the pavement.

“Come on boy!” Dad said, suddenly beside him and gruffly pulling him up by one arm and handing him a bigger silver knife.

Dad hurried between the lawns of two of the neighborhood houses, harshly whispering to Adam as they ran.

“I don’t know for sure it's her,” he said, scanning the area as they rushed through the grass, “But you never show up unprepared. Keep that knife hidden until we know. Remember silver to the heart,”

Adam tried to stay close to Dad, mirroring his movements and scanning the area around the houses, even though he didn’t know what Dad was looking around for. Suddenly Dad stopped short and ducked behind a tree grabbing Adam by the collar of his shirt and pulling him behind as well.

“Goddamnit,” Dad said under his breath and Adam leaned around to see what had caused his father to curse.

At first, he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His brain saw the image, but he couldn’t process it; it just didn’t make sense.

He knew he saw the back of the house. His brain recognized the garage and its open door, the normal, everyday contents of garage stuff lining the walls. He understood that he saw the morgue assistant lady standing in the garage, gazing around at the stored items. But when he saw a pair of woman’s legs, sticking out from beside a tall toolbox his brain started to short out. His eyes followed the legs, until he saw the whole person. Bloody and motionless, propped up against the wall, brown hair long and loose. He knew he was seeing her, seeing the real her, the real person who was the morgue assistant. When he looked back at the person…no…not person… standing in the middle of the garage he got a little dizzy. It was the most surreal sensation he’d ever felt, even more strange then when he’d touched that ghost. Being haunted by a ghost was a visceral experience, one he felt in his bones, but this was beyond strange. Like waking up inside a horror movie, unsure of what was really possible.

“Dad….” Adam whispered, his heart racing and his hands starting to tremble.

“Stay here Adam,” Dad ordered, his eyes trained on what Adam now knew was a shapeshifter in pathology assistant’s clothing.

Adam gulped in fear as Dad stepped out from behind the tree and began to stealthily wind his way to the garage where the monster was still standing, longingly admiring the contents of the garage. Gathering his courage Adam peeked out from behind the tree to watch his father, terrified of what he might see but even more scared of not seeing it.

Dad was cautious as he approached the house, silently moving between the bushes and ending up on the outside of the garage. Adam watched as Dad scanned the surroundings once more, locking eyes with Adam just for a moment before he slipped into the open garage, large silver knife in hand.

The lady…no… the monster… noticed Dad immediately and stepped back, glaring at him.

Due to the distance, Adam couldn’t quite make out the words she spat at Dad, but he could see the hatred burning in her eyes. Adam watched as Dad slowly pulled out his own large silver knife tentatively stepping further into the garage, causing the shapeshifter to take another step back while she glared at him.

Adam’s pulse was racing, hands sweating and shaking watching Dad and the shapeshifter circle each other dramatically. With a suddenness Adam didn’t expect the shifter dove to the side, away from Dad toward one wall of the garage covered in garden tools. She yanked down a long pointed shovel and pointed it cautiously at Dad, speaking words to him that Adam couldn’t make out.

Dad was unmoved by whatever it was she said though, he was still poised to lunge, knife held loosely in his right hand, his left open and palm up, ready to grab the shovel when she swung at him.

Adam scourged his brain, trying to remember everything he knew about shapeshifters. Where they extra strong? Or fast? He couldn’t remember. Damn! He had to start paying attention to this shit!

The standoff ended suddenly when the shifter surprised both Adam and John by throwing the shovel at John instead of swinging. John ducked and avoided being hit as the shifter turned and grabbed another tool from the wall, a long rake that she did swing as John came up from his crouch.

John ducked again, the pointed end of the rake narrowly missing his cheek. He dove forward and slashed, missing as the shifter spun, grabbing more items from the garage shelves and throwing them at John in an attempt to disarm him. John continued to press forward; ducking a watering can, a half-gallon of paint, paint brushes and cans of oil all being thrown with a strength a 5’6 woman shouldn’t have had.

Adam panted as he watched Dad and the woman fight in the garage. There were only a few steps between them and the woman was fighting for everything she was worth. If Adam hadn’t of known any better he would have thought Dad was the evil on in the fight. Dad ducked and dodged everything she threw, steadily keeping up his pursuit but not attacking like Adam had expected.

Suddenly John lunged. He closed the distance between them instantly and grabbed the woman by her should, flinging her around to face him. He raised his knife, aiming straight in the middle of her chest, the spot Adam knew would end this fight.

Adam caught the glint of reelection off the knife from the sun that had just started to peek out from behind the clouds that had hovered over them all morning. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Dad’s face was red with fury and exertion, sweat beading on his eyebrows and rolling down the side of his face. His teeth were bared in a snarl of malicious hatred that created a stone of fear in Adam’s stomach and he wished he could unsee what he was about to witness.

Suddenly a blur of red and the knife was knocked from Dad’s hand as he was hit in the side of the head with a brick.

SHIT!

Adam was running. Running toward Dad as he crumbled, weightless, dropping his hold on the woman.

Adam tightened his grip on the knife Dad had given him with his right as he ran, stuffing his hand into his pocket with his left and fumbling to grab his smaller silver knife. He stumbled over grass, dirt, running with all he had to get to Dad.

The shifter freed herself from Dad’s hold and stood up as Adam skidded into the garage, breathless and shaking.

The shifter woman turned, “Hunter baby.” She said, disgust dripping from her voice.

“S…Stop.” Adam said unsteadily, holding out both his knives and pointing them at her.

The woman glared at Adam for a moment, then eyed John’s silver knife on the floor before reaching down to grab the handle.

Adam’s eyes went wide at the move.

“S…s… silver?” Adam questioned, his voice weak and shaky.

“Just burns a little baby hunter,” she said sneeringly, “Worth it if it means getting rid of you two,”

Adam watched as she eyed Dad, still unconscious on the garage floor, bright red blood flowing from a large cut in his hairline.

Instantly Adam knew what she was going to do.

He felt her move before she did. She lifted her arm, ready to plunge the knife. Adam dove at her, leaping across the garage and tackling her, feeling the sharp end of Dad’s knife hit his shoulder as they collided and hit the hard cement floor.

Rolling with her as they landed, Adam slashed with both hands, grunting and stabbing wildly. The woman was stronger than she looked and fought hard, making harsh stabs with John’s knife and clawing at Adam’s face and hair with her open hand. Adam struggled to stay on top of her, stabbing as hard as he could into her flesh, causing her to shriek in pain. Suddenly she punched hard with her free hand, catching him in the jaw and making him see stars. He flew back, nearly knocked off by the unexpected blow, but kept a tight grip on both knives and made a blind stab downward. He felt the knife hit bone hard and the force shuddered up his arm, making it tingle in pain. The blackness from her punch cleared and Adam saw that his hand was holding a knife hilt deep into the woman’s right cheek, her eyes frozen wide in shock.

John came to with a start, head pounding and stomach rolling.

Adam.

He sat up immediately, causing blackness to cloud his vision again as he tried to will his eyes searching desperately for his son.

Please, God. Please. He begged, forcing himself to move, despite the pain and nausea assailing him.

When the blackness cleared, he saw an image that would forever be carved into his mind’s eye, one that would haunt him for years, make him question all his good intentions with his sons.

Adam, little Adam, who hadn’t even hit the growth spurt that would have him stumbling around, all arms and legs for months, until he grew into the land of six feet plus where both his brothers lived, Adam, who only wanted to help people and dreamed of becoming a doctor to save lives, who this time last year didn’t know a djinn from a witch, sitting on the chest of a women covered in blood, his eyes frantic and crazed, one hand hanging loosely at his side gripping his trusted small silver knife, the other… the other hand clenched tightly around the hilt of the knife John had given him, wedged into the skull of the woman under him.

Bile unexpectedly rose in John’s throat and he choked on it, seeing the woman flinch under Adam.

It wasn’t dead yet.

“Heart! Adam!” John yelled frantically.

In a daze, Adam responded automatically, lifting his left hand and driving the small silver knife between his legs into the woman’s chest.

The shifter wilted with the blow and John knew it was over. Heart thumping and stomach clenched in a panic he stumbled over to his son, pulling him off the body and gripping his face, trying to quickly examine his son.

There was blood everywhere.

Adam was covered in it. Scratches down his face beading with it, tears in his clothing seeping bloody wetness through them.

“Adam? Adam?” John questioned in panic, trying to get his still dazed son to look at him.

“Where? Adam? Where?” he asked, feverishly feeling around the boy to find where the worst of his wounds were.

“Huh?” Adam asked, his eyes clouded and far away.

“Where are you hurt son?”

Suddenly Adam’s eyes were bright as he registered the pain and he curled in on himself, crying out. “My leg!”

“Ok. Ok son,” John said, trying to calm himself more than Adam, looking down to Adam’s left leg where red was spreading around a wide hole in the boys jeans.

Pulling Adam off of the woman, John gently laid his son down on the garage floor, trying to be mindful of all the smaller wounds that he could see.

“OK, ok,” John whispered, finding himself chanting those meaningless reassurances that always flowed from him when his boys were hurt and it was his fault.

John’s mind spun as he quickly took stock. Open garage in a residential neighborhood. Two dead bodies. One bloodied and bleeding teenager crying on the floor. Stolen car two houses away. Victim’s house. Crime scene. Sam two hours away. Dean headed to Florida.

Without being conscious of it, John immediately shut down his emotions and went into tactical mode. He jumped up, running to the garage door and pulling it down with a bang. He ran back to Adam, digging in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone while taking off his belt. He knelt down beside his boy and slide the belt under his left thigh, cinching it tightly, hoping to stop the bleeding and praying that no major arteries had been hit.

Reaching with one hand to open the phone on the ground and pressing speed dial number one, he tore off his white FBI dress shirt and ripped the sleeve off and the phone rang.

“Dad?” came Dean’s voice from the other end of the call.

“Dean! How far are you boy?”

Dean instantly understood the urgency in his father’s voice, “Two hours from the motel, sir.”

“We’re in the red. Get Sam. Get here. Meet us at Mercy General.”

“Adam?” Dean’s voice cracked at the question.

“He’s gonna be ok,” John said as he ripped the other sleeve off his shirt to tie around the wound in Adam’s right shoulder as the boy cried out with the forced movement

“Dad?” Dean asked, sounding so young that it nearly broke John from his detachment. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Dean,” John said, reaching down to flip the phone shut and end the call before his resolve could be broken any more.

“Adam,” John said, staring intently at his youngest, whose face was grimaced in pain and anguish, sweat across his forehead and blood smeared across his cheeks. “Adam, where else? Are you hurt anywhere else son?”

“Uh!” Adam moaned, rocking in pain “I don’t know!” he cried through clenched teeth.

“Ok, Ok,” John said, running his hands gently across the boy as quickly as he could.

Hospital or Hotel? Hospital or Hotel? John debated, trying to catalog Adam’s wounds. The stab wound to the back of his thigh was by far the worst, deep and uneven, worrying John with the possibility of permanent muscle damage. The shoulder injury would definitely need stitches but wasn’t deep enough to cause serious concern. Small, thin slashes lined Adam’s arms. Bandages on those. Scratches on the face, just cleaning.

“Sit up Adam,” John ordered, pulling Adam into more of a sitting position, hoping to gauge just how serious the stab wound to his leg really was.

Adam screamed in pain at the motion and instantly John decided on the hospital. Looking around he realized he’d have to get Adam out of here without causing a scene, which meant there was no way he’d be hauling his bleeding son past two neighboring houses back to the stolen sedan.

“Ok son. Ok,” he said, laying Adam back down.

Gritting his teeth John with determination, John glanced down at his boy,

“I’ll be right back Adam.”

“Dad!” Adam cried weakly, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m gonna go get a car Adam,” John said, running a soft hand down the side of Adam’s face, “Just need to get the door open so we can get you in ok?

Tears still rolling down his young face, Adam nodded. John stood up and glance around the garage noticing a stack of old beach towels on a top shelf. Grabbing several, he hurried to the side of the garage where he remembered seeing an outside door and slid out into the driveway, scanning the surrounding area. Nothing seemed out of place in the quiet neighborhood and no one seemed to have taken notice of the brawl in the garage.

The little blue car was still in the driveway and John opened the driver side door, thankfully spotting car keys in the cup holder between the seats.

John gave a brief sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to waste time hotwiring and opened the back door of the car, laying down one of the beach towels.

Rushing back into the garage, John knelt next to Adam.

“You’re gonna be ok,” he said, covering Adam with the other towel and gently putting a hand behind his shoulder to pick him up.  
“You keep saying that,” Adam mumbled softly “You’re scaring me,”

John nodded, biting down on another meaningless “ok” that bubbled up, “I’m gonna pick you up now, get you in the car,”

Adam’s bottom lip trembled, but he nodded and as gently as he could John picked his son up, carrying him as softy and quickly as he could manage out to the little car. Getting Adam into the car was no easy task and the boy was sweating and crying, by the time John closed the back door.

John ran back to the garage, locking and shutting the side door, saying a little prayer that no one noticed him and the house would stay untouched until Sam and Dean could get there.

He ran back to the car, throwing himself into the front seat the starting the car.

“Dad?” he heard weakly from behind him.

“Yeah son?” he responded, glancing in the rearview at the small, pale face.

“I… I didn’t drop my knife.”

John felt the last small part of his heart that wasn’t broken shatter instantly at his little boy’s words and he had to close his eyes for a moment to be able to respond.

“I know son. I know. Good boy,”

-/-/


	26. Interviews Part 3

Interviews Part 3

Sam Winchester burst through the front doors of the school, sending the metal doors flying back with a crash that echoed down the hall as he dashed down the front steps as fast as his long lanky legs could carry him.

Panic and terror had sent his heart racing the moment his name came across the school intercom system. Even normal kids knew nothing good came from being paged to the front office, but for Sam, things couldn't have been worse.

The school secretary was vague on the details, she could only say that his brother had called, something had happened and Dean was coming to pick him up. Last time Sam checked Dean was on his way to Florida for a hunt with Caleb. Things had to have gone seriously toe up for Dean to ditch the hunt and pull Sam from school.

Which meant things had gone bad for Adam and Dad.

Which shouldn't have happened. They were just interviewing witnesses today. Dad had assured both Sam and Dean that today was just recon, that Adam would be safe and that he'd just be getting his feet wet learning to deal with civilians during a case. What the fuck happened?

Sam skipped down the last three cement steps onto the sidewalk in front of the school just as the Impala rumbled up. He raced toward the passenger side, throwing open the door and jumping in.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, grabbing for his seatbelt as Dean gunned it out of the school parking lot, barely waiting until Sam was in the car to start rolling.

"Dad called. He and Adam are in the red," Dean said, pushing down the accelerator and mentally calculating just how fast he could get to Hartsville.

"How bad?" Sam asked shortly, fear edging into his voice.

"Don't know." Dean replied, keeping a steady focus on the road and trying to keep his own terror in check, "He didn't say. I heard Adam though… in the background… he's alive at least, but that's all I got."

"And Dad? He's hurt too?" Sam questioned, his heart racing and terror pulsing in his veins.

"I said I don't know Sam!" Dean yelled sharply, clenching the steering wheel and pressing the gas down again, his speed climbing with his fear.

"Fuck." Sam said, unaffected by Dean's outburst, "They were just supposed to be interviewing the husband, checking the body. What the hell happened?"

Dean shook his head trying to control his emotions, "I don't know, but we're meeting them at the hospital."

A heavy stone of dread landed in Sam's stomach at the word hospital. Things had to be really, really bad for Dad to have decided to go to the hospital. Dad prided himself on his field medic skills and he'd worked hard over the years to add a wide variety of abilities to his toolbox. Sam could count on one hand the number of times that he'd ever seen Dad hospitalized, despite the fact that he'd seen his father come back from hunting with more injuries than he cared to remember. Injuries that he knew should have seen professional attention, at least more than a needle, thread and whiskey bottle. Even Sam himself had only been to the hospital for broken bones, and Sam figured that if Dad could have managed to make plaster casts on his own he probably wouldn't have even gone then.

Sam hoped that all Adam had was a broken bone, just something minor that John didn't have the tools to patch up in their motel room.

Sam hoped.

But from the naked fear on Dean's face, as he pushed the car well past the marked speed limit, he knew that hope was unlikely. Dad had said something else. Or Dean had heard something, something he wasn't telling Sam, something that had caused Dean's protective instincts to fly into overdrive.

"Dad said he's gonna be ok," Dean said, and Sam knew that Dean had felt Sam's eyes on him, studying him and trying to pull out whatever secret he thought Dean was keeping.

"That doesn't mean anything," Sam said coldly.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said flatly, keeping his eyes on the road so he wouldn't have to see the panic he knew was building in his little brother's eyes.

-/-

They reached Hartsville in just under an hour, having ignored all posted speed signs and luckily avoiding any well-meaning officers of the law.

Dean barely had the Impala in park before both he and Sam were out of the car and dashing toward the sliding glass doors of Mercy General Hospital. They skidded into the emergency room, scrambling in a frenzy of fear and panic to get to the main desk.

"My dad…" "My brother…" they said at the same time, overwhelming a young nurse sitting behind the desk, phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Just a minute," she said into the receiver, turning to look up at them. "Excuse me?

"My dad…" "My brother…" they both repeated, tripping on each other's words.

"Dean!"

Both brothers turned immediately at the call, pushing away from the desk and spotting their father who had appeared outside a set of double doors.

"Dad!" Dean said as they rushed him, taking note of the dried blood and butterfly bandage on his father's temple, "Where's Adam?"

"Dad! Is he ok? What happened?" Sam asked frantically.

"Ok boys, ok." Dad said, reaching out to put a hand on each of their shoulders to settle them, "He's gonna be ok. He's hurt, but not too bad. He's sleeping now. Doctors had to give him some heavy stuff to get him patched up, but he gonna be ok."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Can we see him?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, I'll take you back," Dad agreed, dodging Sam's question.

They followed Dad back into the emergency room, glancing between the curtained areas at gurneys filled with injured and waiting patients. Halfway back, Dad turned into one of the little areas and suddenly all the air Sam had in his lungs was gone.

There, in a huge hospital bed, was his little brother.

His tiny, little brother.

Was he always this small looking? He didn't seem so small this morning when he was shoving around Sam to get into the motel bathroom first. God was that only this morning?

Adam was naked from the waist up, a light blue hospital gown crumbled around his waist, a large white bandage wrapping around his right shoulder. He had long scratches down the side of his face, purple bruises darkening around his jaw. He was too pale, too skinny. Numbly, Sam made a mental note to start pumping the kid with more protein when he was out of this. Dean would be on board for that; he was always trying to get the kid to eat more.

Dean.

Sam glanced at his older brother and found a look of crushing heartache and worry across his face.

"He's pretty beat up," Dad admitted, coming to stand beside Adam's head, where the young boy was still unconscious thanks to whatever meds he'd been given.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, "Are they gonna keep him overnight?"

"No," Dad said, looking down at Adam, "They'll release him once he wakes up. They had to put him under to do the internal stitches on his leg."

Dean made a soft choking sound and looked down to the thin hospital sheet that was covering Adam's lower half.

"Yeah, took a stab to the thigh, one to the shoulder and quite a few small slashes on his arms," Dad said, his detached and clinical voice a stark contrast to the soft, sad eyes that stared down at Adam.

"Dad…." Sam started, wanting to beg his father for an explanation of what happened, how this could have happened.

"Boys," Dad said suddenly, taking a breath and leaning down over Adam, drawing both boys in with the move. He rubbed his beard, scratchy with growing 5 o'clock shadow, before tapping his chin pointedly and looking each boy in the eye.

Sam and Dean both took note of the movement and watched their father intensely, preparing for the coded message they knew they were about to receive.

"You two need to go to the house…."

The victim's house.

"…grab your brother's red coat…"

Get rid of Adam's blood.

"...and take out the trash, there's two bags waiting for you in the garage..."

Two bodies. Get rid of them.

"...bring back lunch. Pick up at the Biggerson's on 9th."

Truck is at the restaurant. Get it and bring it back.

Dean nodded an affirmative at the message and glanced at Sam who also nodded seriously.  
"I'll give you a call when he wakes up ok?" John said, looking at each boy, wishing he wasn't sending his sons out on such a depraved errand.

"Go on then," he said, nodding toward the door, "Get going so you can get back,"

John watched as each boy threw a pitiful look at Adam and then hurried away, no doubt cursing their father's name as they went. John didn't blame them one bit.

-/-

They rode in silence to the victim's house. Sam could still feel the millions of questions he had for his father racing in his head, burning in his throat, but Dad's instructions for them had sent him into a cold space, void of emotion.

As Dad's coded message had sunk in, Sam had felt himself become impassive, his concern for his brother fading like white noise into the background as the callous, calculating part of his brain took over.

Both he and Dean had been trained on how to clear and stage crimes scenes. Over the years they'd learned how to move bodies, clean up blood, remove any evidence that could identify or tie them to a scene. They'd also been taught how to stage a scene if necessary, how to make it look like nothing supernatural had ever occurred. John had made sure they each knew, in excruciating detail, all the things that could go wrong in a crime scene cover-up and how careful they had to be in these types of situations.

Although they had the training, had run through mock-up scenarios with their father, had listened as he quizzed them on seemly insignificant details of evidence and police procedure as they tried to watch MASH reruns in the evenings, neither son would ever be comfortable with this part of the job. Dean was more experienced then Sam, having started hunting years before Sam was allowed, but he never spoke of the things he was asked to do after the monster was destroyed. Sam had gone into hunting knowing that something would be killed and that some cleanup would be required, but something in him changed once it was his turn to light the fires, dig the graves and stage the scenes.

Sam couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but he knew why. His fragile human brain couldn't deal with the trauma he was exposing it to, so it simply turned off.

It's why he couldn't remember picking the lock that got him and Dean into the victim's garage, why he had no memory of moving the heavy, lumpy, uncooperative dead weight of the bodies, why he was surprised later when he washed his hands to see they were still tinged red from where he scrubbed his baby brother's blood off a stranger's garage floor.

Sam knew what he had done, he was there witnessing it all, but if he had been asked to recall any part of it he couldn't say for certain what he did or didn't do. Did he smooth back the murdered woman's hair from her face and wish she'd had better luck? Did he gag at the smell of her perfume mixed with blood when he leaned over the shapeshifter? Did he cry after the bodies were placed in the trunk of the Impala and they were back on their way to the hospital? He didn't know. He didn't want to.

-/-/

Dean got the call that Adam was awake just after they had picked up Dad's truck from the Biggerson's parking lot. Relief had flooded him immediately with Dad's assurance that Adam was doing ok and they'd be ready to go after getting his antibiotic and pain prescriptions filled. Dean was thankful that Dad was actually following doctor's orders on this one and getting Adam the meds he'd need to fight off any potential infection he might get from his wounds. Dean knew that if Dad had been the one injured he skip the pain meds, antibiotics and whatever and just 'rub some dirt on it' so he could get back to work. Dean shook his head in amazement at the thought. Dad was so damn tough.

Still, he was glad Adam would be taken care of.

Following behind Sam, who was driving Dad's truck back to the hospital, Dean let his mind wander, trying to stave off the persistent, lingering questions he had about how Adam had gotten hurt in the first place. Rubbing a hand across his eyes in a quick, but weary motion Dean tried to forget the mental image of his little brother, battered and unconscious in the hospital bed. This was the first time the kid had seen any real injury, something more than a cut or big bruise and he wondered how Adam might handle it. If he was anything like Dean or Dad he'd be grumbling and pissed, annoyed in general about being hurt and frustrated by the time it took to heal. If he was like Sam he'd be miserable and mopey, also pissed about being hurt but more silent and despondent than anything else. Dean sighed to himself as he went through his mental checklist of the things they'd need to care for Adam after his hospital stay: saltines and bland foods since the meds the doctors used to knock him out would probably make his stomach upset, crutches or a cane of some sort so he could get around while the wound in his leg healed without tearing the stitches, some new books to read or a movie to watch while he was laid up. Had they driven past a Blockbuster on the way into town? Dean tried to remember. Running through the mental list of needs was thankfully enough to keep his mind occupied until he made the turn into the hospital parking lot.

He chose a secluded spot near the back, hoping that he was parked far enough away that the creeping smell of the bodies in his trunk wouldn't be noticed and they could get Adam and get out of town to finish the clean up before they had more problems. Sam had taken Dad's truck and parked it nearer to the building, wanting it to be close to the entrance so that they could easily get Adam into the cab. Although they hadn't discussed it, the brothers had instinctively determined that while the Impala's backseat would no doubt be considerably more comfortable for Adam in his injured state, there was no way that they could pull close enough to the building to get him loaded into the car without alerting everyone that there was something rotting nearby. As it was, Dean was going to be detailing his Baby for a month to get the smell out.

Sam stood restlessly outside the large sliding glass doors of the Emergency Room, impatiently waiting for Dean to join him.

Dean knew by the look on Sam's face that the fear for his younger brother was gradually turning into rage at their father and he hoped they could at least get back to the motel room before Dad and Sam made a scene.

They walked side by side through the sliding glass doors into the lobby of the emergency room, each still feeling anxious and uneasy from their unpleasant errand. Dean spotted Dad and Adam first and hurried over to where they waiting. Adam was sitting dazedly in a wheelchair in front of Dad clutching a small white paper bag with the name 'Adam Townsend' printed on it. Dean knelt down in front of him, gently putting a hand on his brother's uninjured leg.

"Hey kiddo," he said softly, tilting his head to try to look into Adam's downcast eyes. "How you doing?"

Adam was silent and Dean wasn't sure if his brother hadn't heard his soft words or if the kid was ignoring him. Dean glanced up at Dad, who was standing behind Adam's wheelchair, wondering if Dad had noticed Adam's despondency.

"He's still a little loopy from the drugs," John explained, avoiding the relentless glower he could feel beating down on him from his middle son.

Dean nodded at the explanation and stood up, just as Adam began to mumble.

"What?" he asked gently, leaning down again to try to make out Adam's garbled words.

"They won't let me walk," Adam said again, sounding like a slightly drunk version of himself.

Dean gave his brother a soft, reassuring smile, "'Course not, kid. You get the star treatment. I'll have to teach you how to pop a wheelie in this thing," he said light-heartedly.

"Dad…" Sam started quietly, unable to sit on his anger and curiosity a moment longer, "When are you gonna tell us what happened?"

John slowly pulled his eyes away from the sweet sight of his oldest and youngest sons' camaraderie to scowl at his middle son. Sam knew better than to bring this shit up in public.

"In the face…" Adam was mumbling again, staring at the floor.

"What?" Dean questioned, leaning down again and wondering if he had heard correctly.

"In her face," Adam said louder, looking up at Dean as if he didn't know his brother, "I stabbed her. In the face,"

Dean's stomach dropped at the words and he glanced at his father, whose face was completely unreadable  
.  
"Time to go," Dad commanded firmly, placing a hand on Adam's uninjured shoulder and gently leaning him back a little more comfortably in the wheelchair.

Sam and Dean followed their Dad and brother outside, Sam pointing the way over to where he'd parked the pickup truck. Together they made short work of getting Adam into the cab of the truck, laying him in a semi-reclined position that seemed to avoid putting strain on his injured shoulder and leg.

As Dad closed Adam's passenger side door, he turned to face Sam and Dean. "Sam, take the truck and take your brother back to the motel, get him to eat something if you can. Dean, you're with me."

Sam nodded at the order and pulled the truck keys from his pocket, still desperately wanting more information from his father, but knowing that until whatever had to be done was done, Dad wasn't gonna engage him.

As Sam turned to walk around the front of the truck he felt a soft hand land on his shoulder, making him pause. He looked back to see Dad staring at him with somber eyes, "Take care of your brother son," he said seriously.

Sam swallowed a lump that had unexpectedly formed in his throat and nodded, "Yes sir,"

Dad gave him a nod of approval before turning his attention to Dean, "Come on son,"

Dean followed his Dad back toward the emergency room and the front parking lot.

As they walked Dad spoke very quietly. "I've still got the pathologist's car here. Adam's blood is all over it, so we're just gonna dump it. You got the bodies?" he whispered lowly, glancing up at his son.

Dean nodded, taking note of his father's dispassionate tone.

"Good. Follow me and we'll find a place to dump the car and then we'll take care of them."

Dean nodded again, thankful that this part of Dad's plan would likely be less gruesome then what he and Sam had been forced to deal with in that garage.

"Dad?" Dean questioned quietly.

Dad threw him a quick scowl, one that Dean recognized from years of experience that told him he'd be better off shutting up, but he pushed on, knowing that he couldn't ask how Adam had been hurt but still wanting to know something, anything about what happened.

"What'd you tell the doctors?" Dean asked in an almost whisper.

"We were mugged," Dad replied, not looking at Dean as they approached a small blue car."Get in," he said opening the driver's side door, "I'll drive you over to the Impala,"

Dean dutifully walked around the car, but as he leaned down to open the passenger side door he froze.

Blood.

From the passenger side window, Dean could easily see the dark, rust color stains that covered the back seat.

Shit. He thought to himself, unable able to muster anything more eloquent.

He grit his teeth and sighed before opening the door and sliding into the seat, refusing to look back as Dad started the small car and they began another horrible errand.

-/-/-/-/

Adam didn't say a word during their trip back to Hartsville and the cheap motel they had been calling home for the past few weeks. The silence was killing Sam. It was all he could do to keep from peppering his little brother with questions, but he could tell that Adam was still zoning in and out from the heavy sedatives he'd been given and he knew that whatever information he got would be muddled and confused at best.

Sam was able to get Adam out of the truck without much difficulty, although as the meds began to wear off his brother balked and complained about Sam carrying him. Sam took that as a good sign.

Despite Adam's embarrassed complaining, by the time Sam set him down on the motel room bed he was sweaty and shaky, having returned to a zoned-out silence that made Sam uncomfortable. Channeling Dean's composure and determination, Sam set about making Adam as comfortable as he could given their circumstances. He slowly and carefully removed his brother's jeans, which had been slit almost to the waistband by doctors in rush to locate and staunch the teen's bleeding. He gently lifted his brother and peeled away the dirty, blood caked sweat jacket that he knew Dad had wrapped around him since Adam's t-shirt had also been sacrificed to the medical professionals. Grabbing his brother's only pair of running shorts and one of his own shirts, Sam dressed his little brother in a way he'd never imagined doing.  
Dean must have dressed Sam a thousand times. Helping Sam's chubby, toddler hands through the armholes of a shirt, buttoning and zipping up little pants, untwisting his little brother from long sleeves that seemed determined to tie him up. But this experience, this intimate experience, was new for Sam and he couldn't decide how he felt about it. A little in awe of the memory of all Dean had done for him, a little gratified that he could pass along the love Dean had shown him, a little angry that Dad wasn't here for Sam or his younger brother.  
By the time Sam had finished Adam was swaying, looking pale and green.

"Just lay back ok Adam?" Sam said, helping his brother lay down on the bed, surrounding him with the all the pillows they had in the room to keep his weight off his injured shoulder.

"Are you gonna throw up?" Sam asked, studying his little brother's pallor.

"I don't know," Adam mumbled weakly, swallowing absently.

Sam nodded and quickly grabbed the tiny motel trashcan from where it sat near the television, "Its ok if you do, just tell me and I'll be right here, ok?"

Adam nodded and Sam watched him swallow again, fighting his body's urge.

"Bad Sam. 's bad…" Adam mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

"I know Adam. I know," Sam said, pulling his lips into a tight line in an effort to hide their involuntary tremble.

"Hey look," Sam said, gently brushing his hand through the short hair on the top of Adam's head in a movement he realized distantly was exactly what Dad did when for him when he was sick, "I'm gonna run out to the truck and get your pain meds ok?"

Adam's eyes flew open, "No! No, Sam! Please don't leave" he cried, reaching up with his good arm to clasp Sam's wrist tightly, "Please!"

"Ok, ok," Sam replied, startled by the suddenness of Adam's movement and the desperation in his voice, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Sam…" Adam said weakly, silent tears beginning to run down his cheeks, "Sam…"

"I'm right here Adam," Sam said quietly, anxiously trying to comfort his brother but having no clue what he could do to ease his suffering.

"Sam…Sam…"

Adam was mumbling now, eyes closed, face turned up to the ceiling, tears streaming from his eyes, running down the sides of his face and dripping from his ears onto the pillow behind his head.

"I'm here Adam. I'm here. You're ok. You're ok now. It's ok," Sam chanted quietly, unconsciously moving the arm Adam still had a hold on so that he could grip his little brother's hand, gently rubbing Adam's arm with his free hand.

Adam's whispered mumbles of his brother's name didn't stop for several minutes until he finally succumbed to the exhaustion and residual pain medication and fell asleep. Sam didn't move. He should have freed himself from his brother's hold to go out to the truck and get Adam's meds, to make his brother something to eat for when he woke up, but Sam couldn't bring himself to move. He stayed frozen at Adam's side, kneeling awkwardly and leaning slightly on the bed, still holding Adam's hand and stroking his side. It wasn't until he noticed small dark spots appearing in front of him on the light orange blanket covering his brother that Sam even realized he was crying.

/-/-/-

It was nearly dark by the time Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel, Dad in the passenger seat gripping a cardboard tray full of sodas and two bags of burgers and fries at his feet.

Although, for once, food was the furthest thing from Dean's mind. He never had an appetite after a clean up like that. He wasn't prissy, he didn't mind digging graves or dumping bodies, but something about blood and the general wetness of bodily fluids just turned his stomach.

He glanced over at Dad, watching him balance the tray of drinks with one hand as he opened the car door and grabbed the bags of food with the other. Dean had hoped that dumping the car and the bodies would ease some of the tension that he could feel radiating off his father, but Dad was still as anxious as he was at the hospital, nerves frayed and on edge.

They opened the motel room door to find Sam crouched next to the bed Adam was laying on, his head bent as if in prayer, both hands tightly gripping one of his brother's hands.  
Sam glanced up at them as they walked in and Dean recognized a look of equal despair and fury on his face.

"How is he?" Dad asked softly, placing the bags of food and drinks he was carrying on the wobbly kitchenette table by the door.

"Sleeping," Sam replied, matching Dad's whisper.

"You get him to eat?"

Sam shook his head, looking down at his and Adam's clasped hands, "He wouldn't let me go,"  
Dean's heart tightened and he had to take a breath to steady himself, his mind racing to come up with some joke or sarcastic comment he could make that would lighten the mood.

"That's alright," Dad said from behind him. "You come over here and eat, I'll sit with him,"

"No, its ok," Sam said not looking up from Adam.

"Not an offer Sam. Get over here and eat with your brother. We're heading out in 30," Dad said, walking around where Dean was standing frozen in the middle of the room watching his family.

"What?" Sam questioned in shock, turning slightly to look back at their father.

"We need to get some distance," Dad said, walking over and slowly sitting down on the end of the bed near Adam's feet.

"Are you kidding me?" Sam whispered sharply.

Dad slowly pulled his eyes away from his youngest son to meet Sam's glare with his own scowl.

"Dad. We aren't going anywhere." Sam said forcefully, his voice hard but quiet, "He needs to rest."

Dean watched as Dad's jaw tightened and then released as he visibly tried to control his annoyance with his middle son.

"Sam. This is not a discussion. Go eat and then get packed up. Pack Adam's stuff too," Dad replied.

"Dad?" Dean questioned from where he still stood next to the table of fast food that was now rapidly losing whatever desirability it might have had. "We could go tomorrow. Give Adam a day to rest? We're two hours away as it is, there's probably not any heat on us here,"

Dad's eyes scrunched shut in another move that Dean recognized as his father trying his damnedest to keep control of his growing frustration with his children.

"We need to move. It's not worth the risk to stay. Adam still has the heavier meds in his system, we'll give him another dose before we leave and he'll sleep the whole way. That's far better than waiting until tomorrow when he'll be in a lot more pain," Dad explained slowly, keeping his voice low.

Sam shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to fight. Fight and argue with Dad to keep Adam here. Adam needed to stay put. Sam knew that for sure. Bouncing around in the Impala trying to make it two or three states away wasn't good for his injuries, no matter how much Dad doped him up.

"Go eat Sam." Dad ordered. "You too Dean."

"Not hungry," Sam replied spitefully.

"Not an option," Dad said, matching Sam's vicious tone.

Sam looked up at his Dad then and John noticed the redness in his son's eyes and felt guilty for his harsh words.

"I'm not up for this right now Sam," John said softly, staring back at Adam's still form, "Just go eat. I don't care how much. Just eat something. We aren't stopping once we hit the road,"

John felt Sam study his face carefully before resigning and slowly peeling his hands away from his brother to go to sit at the table.

"Dean," John said, not looking up.

"Yes, sir." Dean said, finally moving from where he'd been standing and sitting down at the table across from Sam.

The room was quiet then except for the rustled sounds of paper as the boys ate. John kept sentry over Adam, watching the boy sleep and cursing himself on each breath he took.  
True to his word, John made sure that thirty minutes later they were all packed up and ready to hit the road. Sam had been able to rouse Adam enough to get him to eat a few cold fries and take two of the large pills the hospital had given them. John held Adam as Dean and Sam took all the blankets and pillows off the motel room beds and stuffed them into the backseat of the Impala creating the most comfortable makeshift bed they could manage.

As the pain pills kicked in Adam began his unintelligible mumbling again, alternating calling out for Sam, Dean, and John and murmuring about blood. John debated asking one of the boys to drive the truck so that he could keep a closer eye on Adam, but in the end, he decided against it. Dean would be an anxious mess if he wasn't allowed to keep watch over Adam and there was no way that John wanted Sam alone in the truck and overthinking his rage for the entirety of the time it took them to make it to their destination. At least if Sam was in the car with Dean and Adam, maybe his brothers' presence would soften his anger, hopefully to a level that John could tolerate.

-/-/-

Back behind the wheel of the Impala, both his brothers by his side, Dean felt the strain of the day gradually beginning to leave his system.

He sighed quietly to himself watching the taillights of Dad's truck in front of him as he caressed the car's steering wheel. This is where he was meant to be. This is where he and his brothers were safe- cradled by the warm leather seats, protected by the hard steel body- this was comfort and home.

And there's no place like home, Dean thought.

Dean didn't necessarily agree with Dad that they had to hit the road immediately and get away from the crime scene, but he could see his father's point. If they were gonna travel at all, it was probably better to do it when Adam could sleep through the discomfort and really its not like the kid was that badly hurt. Dean had been worse off before, so had Sammy. And God knows Dad had. And each time they'd continued on, traveling, working, and researching. Very little got in the way of the family business. And that was fine with Dean. Monsters weren't gonna stop killing and feeding on people while the Winchesters took time off to heal. They had an obligation to push through their own pain so they could help people.

Besides, it's not like they usually stayed around in town after they ganked the monster anyway. Once the job was done there was no reason to stay. Yeah, occasionally Dad would let Dean and Sam stay behind while he confirmed the next case or while Sammy finished up a week of school, but generally, they hit it and quit it.

Of course, Dean understood Sam's point too.

Adam was new to the hunting game and this was his first really serious injury. The kid probably deserved some time to rest and recover and Dean would have liked to have given him that. At the very least Dean would make sure he'd be excused from PT for awhile while he healed up, so that was something.

Dean threw a glance up at the rearview mirror, surreptitiously checking on his little brother. Adam was still peacefully passed out in the back seat, surrounded by the gathered up motel bedding, drooling slightly on the pillow he had propped up against the door. A small smile crept onto Dean's lips at the sight. Adam was gonna be fine. Two stab wounds were really nothing and once the stitches came out he'd be good as new.

Dean settled more comfortably into the driver's seat, relaxing into the secure feeling of being behind the wheel of his car. Everything was gonna be ok. Adam was ok, Sam was ok, they were all together and that's really all that mattered.

A few hours later the silence that had enveloped the car since leaving the motel was broke by a pained sound.

Surprisingly, not from Adam.

"Dean. My books, my backpack… They're all still in my locker at the school…" Sam said suddenly, with a desperate moan at the realization.

"Ah crap Sammy," Dean said sadly, glancing over at this brother's forlorn expression, "I'm sorry dude."

Sam sank into the front seat, looking dejectedly out the window.

"This sucks," he whispered miserably.

"It's ok Sam. Really." Dean said glancing between his brother and the road, "We'll get you another backpack soon ok?"

"I know." Sam replied not looking at him, "I just…"

Sam hesitated, breaking off his sentence and staring embarrassedly at his hands."I want my books Dean. I want MY backpack."

Dean's heart gave a little twist at his brother's admission. He couldn't fault Sam for that. As much as he made fun of the kid for being such a nerd and loving his homework and his books, he really did understand wanting something of his own. It wasn't crazy that Sam felt connected to his stupid backpack, it was probably the same way Dean felt connected to Dad's leather jacket or the car. They each owned so little in their lives, it only made sense that they got attached to seemingly insignificant items.

"I know Sammy. I'm sorry bro," Dean said sadly, wishing there was more that he could do for his brother.

"I hate this," Sam said, his tone beginning to change, morphing from miserable to mad. "I hate everything about this."

"What?" Dean asked worriedly.

"This Dean." Sam said, sitting up suddenly and making a wild motion around the car, "All this. We're fleeing a crime scene right now. You just buried two bodies. Our 13-year-old brother got stabbed today."

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew this was coming. Sam had been vacillating between depressed and furious since he'd brought Adam home from the hospital and it seemed like the loss of his backpack had sent him over the edge.

"Come on Sam…" Dean said with a sigh, knowing it was better to let Sam get all this out of his system in the car now, rather than in the hotel later with Dad around.

"No Dean! You're completely oblivious! Do you even know what this is doing to Adam?"

"What?" Dean asked angrily.

"Oblivious. It means…" Sam explained angrily,

"I know what it means dickwad," Dean snapped, "What do you mean about Adam?"

"I mean that he's barely a teenager and he just killed a person."

"Not a person Sam," Dean interjected, already becoming frustrated.

"Maybe not Dean but it looked like a person!" Sam said emphatically, turning in his seat to look at Dean, "He stabbed her in the face, you heard him, you don't think that's gonna screw with him a little?"

"Come on Sam, quit being such a drama queen," Dean replied, brushing off Sam's plea, "He'll be fine. It was his first real kill. He did good. We'll remind him of that. He's gonna be fine,"

"How can you even think that Dean?" Sam asked, sardonically, "He's different from us. He shouldn't be doing this,"

"Jeez Sam, will you just relax? We don't even know how he's gonna handle it. Yeah, he's new to the game, but he's been training. He's gonna be fine,"

"He shouldn't have been out there," Sam said, ignoring his brother, "What the hell is wrong with Dad?"

"What are you talking about? It's not like Dad knew this was gonna happen. He was just taking the kid on interviews," Dean replied, growing more and more irritated with his brother's need to nitpick their lives.

"Yeah, but he knew it was a possibility. He knew the shifter was in town and had already killed one person. He shouldn't have taken Adam out on something so risky," Sam said, glancing into the rearview.

"Ok, now you're reaching." Dean said, shaking his head, "Why don't you get your panties untwisted and just relax. Adam wanted to go with Dad. He was excited about watching the interviews- hell the kid's been begging to go hunt. Just 'cause you hate hunting doesn't mean everyone does,"

"Yeah and just cause you do everything Dad says, doesn't mean Adam should," Sam spat back.  
Dean turned to glare deeply at his brother, "Look Sam. We don't know what happened. And until Adam wakes up, we won't, so I suggest you cool it,"

Sam gave Dean another glare and then huffed, sliding back down in his seat and glaring out the passenger side window.

"Jerk." He mumbled.

"Bitch," Dean muttered in return, scowling at the blacktop in front of him.

-/-/-/  
Six hours later the Impala's gas tank was almost on E and Adam was beginning to stir, groaning uncomfortably from the backseat.

A quick call to Dad and the decision was made that they had traveled far enough and Dean followed the taillights of the black Sierra off the next highway exit and into the parking lot of yet another ramshackle no-name motel.

"Could we ever get a hotel, not a motel?" Sam mumbled as they pulled into the assigned parking space in front of their appointed room.

Dean ignored his brother and checked the rearview again, surprised this time to see two owlishly wide eyes looking back at him. Startled, Dean turned around in his seat.

"Hey kid," he said gently, throwing an arm over the back of the Impala's bench seat so he could turn further to talk to Adam, "How you doing?"

Adam stared back at him and started to give a little shrug, flinching at the painful movement.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding toward Adam's shoulder, "Gonna be a little sore for a while. Its ok, though, Sammy's got some pain meds for you. We'll get settled in and get some food and you can take them ok?"

Adam gave a tiny nod back, his eyes drifting away from Dean to stare unfocused out the front windshield of the car.

"Come on Sam," Dean said, taking charge as he always did, "Let's get in and get this kid some drugs."

Sam didn't acknowledge his brother's command, but got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side, pausing back the door of the back seat, "You think we need to carry him again?"

Dean had gotten out of the car and stood next to the door as well, and gave a shrug.

"No," came a voice from behind them, "Sam grab the bags, Dean go get a bed turned back for your brother. I'll help him out of the car,"

"You're gonna let him walk?" Sam asked with concern.

John glanced at Sam before putting a hand on the Impala's door, "I'm gonna see what he can do. Boy can't be carried forever,"

"Yeah but…."

"Come on Sam," Dean said, interjecting and grabbing the sleeve of his brother's coat, pulling him towards the motel room.

John didn't watch them go, only stared down at the car door, bracing himself. There were so many times as a father he had to push his sons in ways he never wanted to. He wanted to be a good dad. He'd imagined being the kind of father he'd never had. He'd planned to be the kind of dad who coached little league and went to school programs, the dad who surprised his kids with ice cream and taught them about cars. Of course, John could have never imagined the way his life was destined to turn out, but he still wanted to be that father. Despite the hunting, the research, the killing, he wanted to be that Dad. And every time he couldn't be, he died a little.  
He had to make things hard on the boys. He knew that, but it was never easy. Each time, he had to work to remind himself that they would be stronger, better, tougher when they struggled and learned. John knew his boys weren't living a life where they could be coddled and spoiled. They had to have confidence. They had to know just how much they were capable of. They had to know how hard they could push themselves and the only way they could learn that was if John was pushing them first. It hurt though. It always hurt John to watch the boys struggle. Watching them fumble with weapons too big for their tiny hands, eyes watery at missing targets too far away. John wanted to give in. More than anything he wanted to let them quit, tell them it was ok and give them hug. He never did though. More and more as they grew he'd stomp on his own consoling urges and frown at them, trying to conceal just how hard it all was for him too. He'd bark orders, his voice growing in volume, matching the growing hatred of what he was demanding of them.

Right now what he really wanted to do was scoop Adam up, cradled him in his arms and tuck him in safely to a nice, warm soft bed. But what John was actually going to do was pull his 13-year-old,half-drugged, barely functioning kid out of the car and demand he walk to a cold motel bed.

John took a stifled breath and promised himself a handle full of whiskey when this was all done with.

Slowly opening the car door, John leaned down and helped Adam sit up a little more in the backseat.

"Ok son," he said, "Let's go,"

John held a hand out but made no move to reach in and assist Adam, hoping the kid would get the hint and start making his way out of the car.

Adam didn't move right away. He didn't even look at John.

Concerned, John leaned down again, one hand on the Impala's roof and the other on the open door, trying to get a better look at his son.

Adam had that thousand-yard stare that John had seen on his son's face before.

Back when he'd first found his son in that tomb.

They never spoke of it- that time when John had rescued Adam in the crypt, only to find that Kate had already fallen to the beasts that had taken them. John tried not to dwell on the memory as a whole and he wasn't completely sure what Adam remembered, but he recognized that far away stare.

Adam had been very near death when John had found him in that coffin. Dehydrated, emaciated and covered in bites and cuts. John knew what Adam had witnessed during his days of torture. He knew his boy had seen what looked like his own mother and a version of himself, torment him horrifically by peeling off bits of his skin and biting chunks from his tender flesh. John's boy had been tortured for days- all so that those evil bastards could get to John. Shit, if they'd have asked John would have peeled off his own skin and handed it piece by piece over to those damn ghouls to have saved his boy.

As it was, John was able to get the real Adam out of the crypt, wrapping the boy in his own worn-out flannel, before hauling ass back to the Milligan house to put a bullet in between the eyes of the ghoul masquerading as his son. From there it was a weeklong stay in the hospital to get Adam back to the right side of functional, John's sleepless guard over his son was broken only long enough for him to dispose of the monster's bodies. In that time, Adam had been completely silent, staring distantly and disconnectedly at his surroundings. John was not unfamiliar with this type of traumatized silence. Dean had dealt with his own bout of muteness after Mary's death and although John was pretty deep in the bottle at that time he didn't remember Dean ever losing connection with the world the way Adam did in those first days. Dean may have been quiet, but at least he would interact. John's little preschooler didn't say a word for a long time after his mother's death, but he'd pull on John's shirtsleeves or point to things. Adam didn't make a move for days.

Adam gradually came out of his trance and John was hesitant to bring anything up about Kate or the incident that might send Adam back down the path of insanity. So they never spoke of it. Never spoke of her.

Staring at Adam now, John could see Adam slipping back into that disconnected state.

"Hey." John said sharply, leaning into the cab and waving a hand in front of Adam's face, "Uh-uh." he said snapping his fingers loudly about a half-inch from Adam's nose, causing the boy to flinch and blink.

"We're not doing that." John said firmly, "Come on, get out of the car,"

Adam blinked quickly, the fog clearing from his eyes as he looked around the car.

"Where's Sam? Dean?" he asked, peering out the open door to scan the parking lot.

John gave a quick nod towards the open motel room, "In the room, waiting on you," he said.

"Oh," Adam replied quietly.

"Come on then," John said, stepping back out of the way of the backseat, putting a hand out for Adam to grab for support.

Adam started to fidget in the backseat, untangling himself from blankets, grimacing and groaning quietly as the movements irritated his injuries. John kept a tight hold on his emotions as he watched Adam struggled to get out of the car, testing his weight on foot and then the other when he realized he couldn't quite walk.

Adam leaned heavily on the Impala's door, his face already pale and sweaty from the small movement.

"Hurts, Dad." He mumbled, folding in on himself.

"I know son," John said, leaning down and grasping his son under his uninjured arm to help him walk. It would have been so much easier to just pick Adam up and carry him, but John reminded himself that pain was necessary and Adam would be stronger the more he could learn to endure.

"Come on and walk," John said, taking some of Adam's weight, but leaving most of the teen's movements up to him.

"Dad…" he cried quietly, his voice strained.

"I know son. I know it hurts," John said, pulling Adam along a little, forcing him to walk, "But pain is part of life. You just gotta push through it and then it's over ok? Just keep going,"

Adam gave a tight little nod and pushed himself forward, steps halting and breathe labored with the effort. John's heart gave a sad little twist watching his son, but he stamped down the feeling and focused on making sure Adam didn't fall.

It only took them a few minutes to make it into the room, meeting the anxious waiting faces of Adam's older brothers. John could tell that Dean was itching to take over. His son was pacing near the prepared motel bed, smoothing the blankets and adjusting the pillows for the entirety of the time it took them to walk over to it. Sam was stoic, standing at the foot of the bed seemingly on guard for some reason John was unsure of.

Together they got Adam settled into bed and John pulled out one of his emergency protein bars from his go bag and demanded that Adam eat, offering him a pain pill after. Sam and Dean made themselves comfortable in the room surreptitiously watching their younger brother as he dutifully chewed the bar that he clearly didn't like the taste of.

After Adam had taken the pills and Sam and Dean had unpacked to their normal level of relative comfort John breathed a little sigh of relief and cleared his throat.

"Ok then," he said, standing up from where he'd been sitting on the bed next to Adam, "I'll go out and get us some supplies."

John didn't miss the look of surprise that Dean gave him or the look of pure animosity that he got from Sam. At least he could be proud that his boys weren't stupid. They knew where he was going and it sure as hell wasn't to get supplies.

But John couldn't wait any longer. He could feel the cracks beginning to show and he had to get away. He needed some time alone to process and put away the memory of what he'd just done to his youngest son.

John grabbed his discarded jacket from the end of the bed, reaching into the pocket to grab his keys.

"Look after your brother," he said, not looking at each older boy as he fumbled distractedly with the keys.

He turned away from them, to hide the embarrassment of what they knew, and fled the room as quickly as he could.

"It's 3 am," Adam said bewilderedly from the bed where he was propped up on thin motel pillows, "Why do we need supplies at 3 am?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and neither brother answered.

After a few quiet moments, Dean sighed and stood up from where he'd been sitting on the opposite motel bed, slowly pulling on his boots and lacing them up.

"Where are you going?" Adam asked, panic in his voice.

"Don't worry about it kid. Sam'll be here with you. You just get some sleep ok?" Dean replied, not looking at Adam as he grabbed his keys.

"Dean!" Adam cried out, trying to sit up.

Sam was on him in a flash, gently pushing him back down into the bed, "It's ok Adam. It's ok,"  
"I'll be back," Dean said and like that he was out the door.

"Sam!" Adam cried, his voice desperate on the verge of tears, "What the hell?"

Sam still had an arm on Adam's shoulder and moved it up to soothingly rub his brother's hair, "It's ok Adam. Dean's just gonna follow Dad to find out what bar he's at so we know where to get him from later,"

"What?" Adam said woefully.

"Just try to get some sleep ok?" Sam said, smoothing down Adam's dirty and greasy hair.

"Sam…" Adam murmured sadly as he slumped down miserably into the pillows, "I don't… I don't…"

"I know." Sam said, cutting his brother off, "Just let those pain pills kick in ok? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm here and Dean and Dad will be back soon,"

"Sam?" Adam whispered, the misery slowly fading from his voice.

"Yeah?"

"I remember it," Adam said, gazing away from his brother.

"What?"

"I remember killing it. Killing her." Adam said quietly, his eyes far away and unfocused again, "Dad went down and I just ran in there. I stabbed her. So many times… It was so hard. And then…. then… I stabbed her… in the face. In the face Sam…. Under her eye… it was like all popping out…. and it was like oozing blood and she was all gurgling… and…"

"Adam. Stop." Sam said suddenly, stilling the hand he still had on Adam's head. "Stop."

"Sam… I killed..."

"Stop Adam." Sam ordered, sounding enough like Dad that Adam blinked and looked up at him, "Don't think about it. Ok? Don't. Think about something else, a tv show or something. Do not think about what happened."

Adam stared at Sam strangely for a moment before replying, "Ok,"

"Just close your eyes and try to sleep ok? Let those pills do their job." Sam said gently, beginning to stroke his brother's hair again.

"And you won't leave right?" Adam asked, slowly closing his eyes and sinking a little further into the pillows.

"No. I'll be right here," Sam said confidently, ignoring the tingle of guilt that awoke in his stomach at the blatant lie.

Sam knew he'd have to leave at some point to go with Dean to pick Dad up off the floor of whatever hole in the wall bar he'd found to drown himself in, but hopefully that would be a few hours from now and Adam would be deep in the comfort of the heavy sedatives he'd been prescribed and his brothers' presence wouldn't be missed.

Sam absently stroked his little brother's hair as he fell asleep, waiting until Adam's breathing was deep and regular before he stopped his movements.

Stabbed her in the face.

Just like Adam had mentioned at the hospital. Dad was down, unconscious from Sam's guess, and Adam had thrown himself into the fray.

Dean would be proud.

Sam was furious.

 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/


	27. Interviews Part 4

Timeline - December 2001. This chapter takes place about a month after the Hartsville hunt where 13-year-old Adam was forced to kill a shapeshifter in the form of a young woman.

/-/-/-/-/  
_Red._

_Dark._

_Screams._

Adam's heart was racing. He was running. Running as fast as he could. Was he being chased? Trying to get away? Just running. He didn't know where he was going.

_Lost._

_Dark_.

Everything was so dark. He couldn't see into the shadows. Couldn't see anything around him. He ran as fast as he could, pushing his legs hard, praying that his feet would land on solid ground he couldn't see.

_Screams._

Again the screaming. It was so loud. Where was it coming from? It was everywhere. Multiple screams. Some angry and hateful, spitting unintelligible rage. Some screaming in pain, ending in moans of sobs.

_Mom._

Adam woke with a start, flinching with the memory of the word.

"You ok there, bud?" Dean asked from the other side of the couch, where he was slumped comfortably into the corner, sipping a beer.

"Yeah," Adam panted, still breathless from the terror the dream.

Dean gave him a skeptical stare but said nothing.

"I'm fine," Adam insisted, scooting down further into the sinking couch and trying to focus on the old episode of Scooby Doo that Dean had playing on the television in front of them.

The shapeshifter hunt had been over a month ago and yet every day, every moment, that Adam drifted off to sleep he was tortured by unending nightmares. The nightmares (night terrors, Sam called them) were always horrific and usually, Adam could only remember the last moment or two before he woke up. Unfortunately, though, that moment was more than enough to shake him deeply and make him regret ever falling asleep in the first place.

"Don't let me fall asleep again," he said to Dean, staring into the cartoon as he spoke to his brother.

"You need some sleep dude, you look like shit," Dean said, looking over at him.

Adam glanced away from the tv to scowl back, "Yeah well…." He said fumbling for an insult, "Look who's talking."

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, "See, you're too tired to even come up with a decent comeback."

"Shut up. I'm fine," Adam said, scowling.

"Yeah sure," Dean said sarcastically, taking a sip of his beer and dropping the conversation.

Adam ignored his brother and tried to focus on the cartoon, but he couldn't follow the episode even though he was sure he'd seen it before. As he watched the colorful characters flee from room to room his mind wandered.

_The weight of Dad's knife in his hand…_

_The wetness of his jeans sticking to his leg…_

_The gurgling sound she made as she began to choke on the blood filling her throat._

The motel room door clicked open, startling Adam again, and he turned to see Sam and Dad walking into the room, each with a hand full of books and papers from the local library where they'd been researching the latest case.

"Are you guys seriously watching Scooby Doo?" Sam asked, walking in and putting his books on one of the motel beds just behind the couch.

"Hell yes, we are," Dean said with a proud nod to Adam.

"Dean…" Sam said exasperated.

"Let me school you on Scooby Doo ok, Samantha?" Dean said, sitting up on the couch and turning sideways in his seat to face Adam and Sam, "The great Scooby and Shaggy teach us two main things. One" he said holding up a finger "is that the villains are usually not strangers and two: that humans are the real monsters."

"Yeah," Sam said with a scoff, "and if you smoke a bunch of weed your dog will talk to you,"

"Wait, what?" Adam asked, sitting up a little to turn toward Sam, "Who smokes weed?" he asked in confusion, causing both his brothers to chuckle at him.

"What'd you guys get on the case?" Dean asked over Adam's head at Dad who was shuffling papers on the table.

"We got the history of the house, at least as far back as the paper trail goes," Dad said, picking up a handful of the papers and walking over to hand them to Dean, "But a lot of people in this area were illiterate for most of the past century so there's not a lot to go on."

"That mean we're gonna be here for a while?" Adam asked cautiously.

"Possibly." Dad replied, standing behind the couch and putting a hand gently on Adam's head, "We'll see."

Adam tried not to frown at his father's words. They'd only been here for three days but he was more than ready to go. Christmas was on Friday and Adam just really wanted to be somewhere where there was some snow, something they probably weren't gonna see in this little podunk town in Tennessee.

Although it's not like Adam was really looking forward to Christmas itself. To be honest, he couldn't have cared less. Without his mom around, Adam didn't think he'd ever want to celebrate anything again. For once he was thankful for his new family's unconventional dealings with holidays. They tended to skip over birthdays, only tossing him a hostess snack with a smile, basically ignored Thanksgiving and didn't even speak of Halloween. And last year when Christmas did roll around, they watched the Macy's parade together and went out for Chinese food. That was it. They never mentioned gifts; never spoke about how it was his first Christmas with them, or without his mom. It was strange, but also strangely comforting. Christmas needed to be weird and wrong. It could never be as happy and wonderful as it had been with her, so sitting in a dingy motel room watching football and eating leftover fried rice felt right in its wrongness.

This year Adam was hoping to see some snow though. They'd been spending too much time in the south lately and Adam was itching for that little reminder that it was actually winter. He was slowly getting used to the nomadic Winchester lifestyle, but he still longed for the comfort of the Minnesota cold in December.

"Alright," Dad said, patting Adam on the head, "I'm gonna take a leak. You boys get ready, we're gonna go do some target practice before dark," Dad said.

Adam suppressed a sigh and sat up on the couch, watching as Dean did the same, placing the stack of papers Dad had handed him on the small table in front of them.

Hiding a grimace from the lingering pain in his leg as he moved, Adam set about searching for his boots.

"What'd ya think Sammy?' Dean asked in a quiet voice.

Dean's questioning tone stopped Adam in his tracks and he turned to look back at his brothers.

"I don't know Dean." Sam whispered conspiratorially, "There's nothing haunting that house. Never has been, as far as I can tell. I don't know what we're doing here,"

Dean frowned but said nothing.

"He's not telling us something," Sam whispered again, as Dean walked over to grab his boots from beside the bed he and Adam were sharing.

"Yeah…" Dean agreed quietly.

"Get your boots on Adam," Dean ordered, in a normal voice when he noticed Adam staring at them.

Adam sneered at his brother, irritated at being left out of whatever it was they were talking about, as usual. Then, with his always-impeccable timing, Dad came out of the bathroom ending any hope Adam had about pestering his brothers to find out what they were talking about.

/-/-/-/

"Adam."

"Adam."

"Hey, dweeb!"

"Huh?" Adam asked, suddenly aware that he'd been staring off into space.

"Are you gonna eat that?" Dean asked, pointing down to the abandoned half cheeseburger on Adam's plate.

"Uh. No," Adam said, pushing the plate across the table toward his oldest brother.

"You need to eat son," Dad said, staring at him with concern.

"I'm fine," Adam said, picking at the napkin on the table in front of him.

Sam bristled in his seat next to Adam. The kid was definitely not fine. Ever since the hunt in Hartsville Adam had been a mess: nightmares every night, eating next to nothing, angry for the stupidest reasons and a complete space case most of the day.

Dad had said to leave him alone and give him space to work it out for himself and Dean seemed to agree.

Sam did not.

He researched. He knew all about all the symptoms that Adam was displaying after the hunt: textbook posttraumatic stress disorder. It wasn't surprising, not to Sam at least. Adam was a normal kid until a year ago; more normal than Sam or Dean had ever been, and from everything that Sam had been reading, normal people's reactions to something as shocking as murder could be pretty upsetting.

Adam's refusal to eat was clearly upsetting Dean. Even as he tore into the uneaten half of his brother's cheeseburger, he didn't seem happy about it. Sam knew how seriously his older brother took his responsibility to them and despite Dean's silence today he knew Dean was watching and counting every calorie that passed Adam's lips.

The memory of the first days after the hunt bubbled up and Sam remembered Dean's determination to get Adam to eat.

"Come on kid, just have a few fries. You gotta eat," Dean said, placing a small bag of fresh french fries next to Adam on the bed as he watched the fuzzy motel television.

"Not hungry," Adam answered back, ignoring his brother.

Sam watched as Dean took a deep breath, trying to keep calm and gentle in the face of Adam's ever-increasing bad attitude.

"You need to eat Adam. I'm serious," Dean tried again.

"Yeah, I'm seriously not hungry," Adam shot back irritably, still focused on the television.

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise at Adam's response. His little brother wasn't usually so mouthy or mean to Dean, especially if he knew Dean was trying to be nice.

"Eat kid." Dean demanded, his patience fraying.

"Not. Hungry. Dude." Adam spat back slowly, causing Dean to grit his teeth in frustration.

"How long's it been since you ate huh?" Dean asked, his voice tinged with anger.

Adam had just shrugged, focused intently on the tv.

"Three days!" Dean replied, holding up three fingers. "Three days. You gotta freaking eat kid."

"I don't want to," came the reply, spoken to the television.

"Why?" Sam asked calmly from the opposite bed, hoping he could break the tension between his brothers.

"Cause I don't. That's why," Adam replied harshly.

"If your stomach hurts, it's probably because you're hungry," Sam supplied.

Adam turned away from the television for only a moment to glare at him.

"Eat." Dean said pushing the fries toward his brother.

"No Dean." Adam said, sitting up with a wince of pain to push them back at him.

"Eat. Now." Dean ordered, taking on the most John Winchester style tone Sam had ever heard from him.

"No." Adam ground out, between clenched teeth.

"Goddammit! Eat!" Dean yelled, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed so that he was leaning over Adam.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, intervening. "That's not helping."

"I don't freaking care, Sam," Dean said, his voice beginning to shake with anger, "Kid's gonna eat if I have to freaking sit on him,"  
"Eat Adam!" Dean yelled again.

Adam glared and his brother, but grabbed a handful of fries shoving them ungraciously into his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing.

"There! Was that so damn hard?" Dean yelled.

Sam watched as Adam went pale, then green, throwing a hand over his mouth just in time to catch a handful of vomit, causing tears to roll down his face as he jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom.

"Great job Dean," Sam said sarcastically.

"Shut up," Dean replied miserably, roughly running a hand through his hair, "I didn't think he'd actually throw up. Shit, I'm such an asshole."

Sam had watched his brother sadly for only a moment before hurrying off into the bathroom to check on Adam. He knew Dean didn't mean to scream at Adam, that it was only the intense worry for this youngest brother that caused Dean to fly off the handle. Dean was normally the calm and collected one in their family, for him to completely lose it like that Sam knew his anxiety was at an all-time high.

Since that day Dean hadn't said anything about Adam's eating, or lack of, but Sam knew that it was wearing on his brother. Anytime Adam refused food or simply pushed the items on his plate around, Sam would catch Dean staring at their brother, looking like he was trying to find something to say, but in the end, keeping silent.

Sam was worried for Adam too, and not just because he'd lost weight. Since the hunt, his brother's whole demeanor seemed to have changed. Whatever happened out there with Dad had altered something within Adam and he seemed colder than he was before.

Concern for his brother diminished Sam's own hunger and he pushed away his turkey burger, wishing once again that unending misery wasn't part of their everyday lives.

"I've got a few interviews to do tomorrow around the area," Dad said, drawing Sam from his thoughts, "I want you boys back to full training while I'm gone."

Sam gave a little nod of acknowledgment even though he didn't really think Adam was ready to go back to training. Surprisingly, Dad had let Adam take the past few weeks off from full PT and had only this week made him start walking alongside them during their morning runs. Sam had been watching his brother carefully since the hunt and although Adam hadn't complained about any of his injuries, Sam didn't miss the flashes of pain that still crossed his face from time to time.

"Are we gonna be here long enough to go to school?" Sam asked.

"I doubt it," Dad said, "but it's almost Christmas break anyway. We'll get you and Adam back in school in January."

Sam couldn't hide the look of displeasure that he knew was on his face. Any other kid would be happy about having an extended Christmas holiday, but not Sam. The longer he was out of school the more hunting and training he'd have to do.

And besides, Adam needed to get back in school as soon as possible. The kid hadn't been in class since he was expelled last month. Sam had been doing what he could to 'homeschool' Adam since then, but it wasn't going well. Normally Adam was receptive to all Sam had to teach him, he seemed to like learning all about the lore and the research tips and tricks Sam passed on, but lately, even when Sam tried to teach Adam normal subjects like English and Math, he resisted. He'd complain about the books, whine about how hard the math was or just plain fight his brother trying to get out of doing any work. It was infuriating.

"Dad, don't think we should go to school if we can? Even for a little while? Adam hasn't been in school in over a month now," Sam said, studying his father.

John looked at his youngest sons for a moment, trying to guess exactly Sam was getting at with his question.

"I thought you were helping Adam with his schoolwork Sam," John questioned, putting down the coffee he'd been sipping.

"I am," Sam said defensively.

"So what's the problem then?" John asked.

Sam was quiet, not wanting to throw Adam under the bus, but still wanting Dad's help to make his brother study.

"Adam?" John asked, glancing at his youngest.

Sam glanced over at his brother but was met with a blank stare. Adam was gone again.

"Adam," John said more firmly.

A sharp kick to the shin from under the table by Dean finally woke Adam from his stupor.

"Ow!" he cried out, glaring across the table.

John shook his head sadly, keeping a worried eye on Adam "You have got to snap out of this son,"

"Snap outta what?" Adam asked, confused.

Dean stared at him incredulously, "Are you serious?"

Adam scowled at his brother.

"Adam…son..." Dad said gently, leaning forward and putting his forearms on the table, "I know there are parts of this life that are hard to deal with. We've all been trying to give you space to figure it out, but its time for you deal with it and move on,"

"Deal with it?" Adam asked in surprise, his eyes suddenly narrowing. "Deal with it like you deal with it? In a bottle?"

John immediately straightened in his seat, shock and anger racing through him at his son's words, "Excuse me?"

Adam tore his surly glare from his father to glance across the table at Dean's shocked expression; his openmouthed gape revealing the last of Adam's cheeseburger and suddenly Adam felt his stomach turn.

He nearly jumped out of the booth, standing up and dashing out of the restaurant before his father or brothers could stop him.

Sam watched as his father's shock melted into a simmering rage and he knew he had to step in to save Adam's ass on this one.

"I'll go get him, Dad," Sam said quickly, sliding out of the booth and hurrying to follow Adam out to the parking lot.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam shouted at Adam's back once they were outside the restaurant.  
Adam ignored him, rushing to the car and sitting down hard on the pavement beside it.

"Seriously dude, what were you thinking? He's gonna whip your ass for that!" Sam said, walking over to stand near where Adam was sitting.

"I don't care," Adam mumbled, turning away from Sam and staring out into the trees behind the little mom and pop restaurant they'd chosen for dinner.

"Yeah, well you will." Sam mumbled in return, leaning against the car and sliding down to sit next to Adam, "What the hell man?"

Adam just shrugged.

"You've gotta let us help Adam." Sam said, "You're struggling with this. We can all see it. Whatever happened on that hunt, whatever you had to do- I know it's hard, but we can help…"

"We've all been there. Done stuff we never thought we'd do. Stuff that you don't even really wanna think about. It's ok man. Just talk to me. I can help you,"

"Who said I want your help, Sam?" Adam growled, staring at the pavement.

"You need it, Adam." Sam said seriously, "You need to deal with this hunt, get past it. I know it was your first kill and killing a shifter is hard. I mean it looked like a human, I get how horrible that can be,"

Suddenly Adam turned to glare at him.

"I don't care about that stupid fucking shifter Sam. She got what was coming to her," he said in a cold voice. "I'm glad I killed her,"

That wasn't the response Sam had been expecting. Everything he read said that a kid who had witnessed something as disturbing as murder would be a traumatized, teary-eyed mess. And for as dazed and distant as Adam had been the past few weeks Sam was just waiting for the breakdown he figured was imminent.

"Adam..." Sam began.

"Just leave me alone Sam,"

The last thing Sam wanted to do was to leave Adam alone. He wanted to push more and try to get his brother to talk about the hunt. Sam knew that if he could just get Adam to open up a little bit that he could help his brother work through the trauma of what he had experienced. He wanted to fight for his little brother, make him face his fear and conquer it, but as he sat on the pavement studying Adam's profile as his brother ignored him he decided maybe now wasn't the time.

"Fine." Sam said, standing up and walking around to the back of the car, leaning on the Impala's trunk to wait for Dean and Dad.

Adam knew he'd pissed his brother off but he didn't really care. Same as he didn't really care that he'd pissed Dad off. It didn't really matter.

It actually felt kinda good to be angry.

He'd been scared and sad for so long, angry felt good. It was like the pain in his leg and in his shoulder. Part of him was glad that it was getting better, that he was recovering, but some other part of him, something deep down liked the pain. He liked that his shoulder still ached when he reached up for something. He liked that if he pressed down a little on his thigh he'd get a shooting pain that reminded him of the hunt. Reminded him of what he did.

If he thought about what he did, how he killed that monster then he wouldn't think about his mom. If he could focus on the feeling of the knife, then he wouldn't remember the soft satin of the inside of the coffin where he'd been trapped. If he thought about her gurgling and choking sounds then he wouldn't remember his mother's last pitiful moans before she went silent.

 

Sam was wrong. Dad was wrong.

Adam wasn't gonna deal with the hunt and move past it. He was gonna hold on to it. He was gonna treasure every detail and remember every moment he could.

He wasn't helpless on the hunt. He wasn't scared or trapped or dying. He was strong. And smart. And fast. He saved Dad. He did everything that he had wanted to do for his mom but couldn't.

"Yo, dead man walking," Dean called out, shaking Adam from his thoughts as he approached the car, "You've got some serious sack talking to Dad like that. What'd you think Sammy? You think we'll make it out of the parking lot before Dad tans his ass?"

Dean smirked at Adam, wagging his eyebrows at Sam, trying to lighten his brothers' moods, but was met with matching scowls in return.

"Yeah… well, I tried to talk him down some for you kid," Dean said more seriously, "But you basically handed him the belt with this one,"

"Don't care," Adam grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them.

Dean looked over at Sam, hoping for an explanation of some kind, but Sam just shrugged.

"Adam." A deep voice called out from behind them, causing all three brothers to turn and look as their father slowly walked towards the car.

Despite his tough talk, Adam felt a twist of fear and dread develop in his stomach.

Dad strode over and stood next to Adam, looming over him.

"Stand up," he ordered.

Still feeling angry and defiant, but not wanting to make what was coming worse for himself Adam stood up, staring hatefully at the pavement.

"You boys wait here," Dad said to his brothers, as he put a firm hand on the back of Adam's neck, "Your brother and me are gonna have a talk."

A stab of ice shot through Adam's gut at the words. He wasn't surprised. He'd known Dad long enough to know that he didn't put up with any disrespect and, like Dean said, Adam had practically been asking for it, but that still didn't soothe the dread building in his veins.

Adam let himself be steered around to the back of the little restaurant, where boxes and dumpsters lay open against the fading white bricks.

Dad removed his hand from Adam's neck and turned Adam around to face him, leaning down and gently grabbing Adam's chin, forcing the boy to meet his eye.

"I know you're dealing with something. But you don't talk like that to me." He said lowly, "Not ever. You understand?"

"Yes sir," Adam mumbled as much as he could through the strong grip Dad had on his face.

"Turn around. Put your hands on the wall," Dad ordered, letting go of his chin.

Adam hesitated a moment, just long enough to give his father a furious stare before turning around and putting his palms flat against the rough brick. He took a deep breath as he listened to the familiar sound of leather leaving belt loops and tried to harden himself for the pain he knew was coming.

Pain was good, he reminded himself. It would help him stay angry. It would help him remember how tough he was and what he could do.

The first stroke of the belt came harder than Adam was expecting and he gasped and recoiled, leaning into the wall as far as he could go. The next hit came immediately after and Adam understood that Dad was getting this over with as fast as he could, not dragging it out so Adam could think about his mistake like he sometimes did. Determined to keep his mouth shut and not humiliate himself by crying out, Adam curled his hands into fists and bit his bottom lip through the rapid-fire pace of the next 11 brutal strokes.

13.

Guess I'll get 14 next year, Adam thought distantly as he gasped for air that wouldn't come, still trying not to cry as his backside throbbed in time with his pulse.

"Alright," Dad said, unfolding his belt and quickly looping it back through his jeans.

Adam shakily pushed himself off the wall and wiped at the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. At least he hadn't cried out loud like some stupid kid.

 

"Come on son," Dad said, gently putting his arm around Adam's shoulder and giving him a small squeeze as they walked out from behind the restaurant.

Adam didn't meet his brothers' eyes when they reached the Impala, not wanting to see their concern and sympathy for his backside. Instead, he focused on the pavement, then the floorboard of the car as he climbed into the backseat, keeping his eyes down, concentrating on absorbing the pain that was radiating across the lower half of his body.

"Straight to bed when we get back Adam," Dad said as he brought the Impala to life with a rumble.

"Yeah," Adam muttered, still staring at the floor.

"Excuse me?" Dad snapped, his tone harsh and on edge.

"Yes sir," Adam corrected, gritting his teeth.

"That's your one pass for the rest of the night," Dad said and Adam knew his father was glaring at him from the rearview mirror. "Don't make me repeat this lesson,"

"Yes sir," Adam replied, trying to ignore the awkward tension that was settling in the car.

They rode silently back to the motel and Adam followed orders, changing into his pajamas and getting into bed soon after they walked in the door.

He wasn't gonna sleep though. Dad could make him go to bed, but he couldn't make him sleep.

So Adam lay in the bed, facing the fading striped wallpaper of the motel wall and listened.

He listened to Dad and Dean as they watched the 'The A-team' and commented about how fake the action was and debated the best catchphrase. He listened as Sam shuffled papers and opened books, probably reading something and taking notes. God, even when he wasn't in school Sam was studying. Dean was right, Sam was a nerd.

Adam thought about his own schoolwork. He did sorta miss school if he was being honest with himself. He'd always been pretty good at it and liked learning new stuff. He even kinda missed reading about stuff that wasn't monster related. But really what good was all that gonna do him now?

Something clicked for him after the last hunt. Some kind of deep realization that had been drifting in the back of his mind for a while, but had come to the forefront as he watched his older brother in the mirror, standing too close to him in a tiny motel bathroom, gently pulling and removing the stitches from his shoulder. Sam was quiet the whole time, deep in concentration at his task, but Adam had watched his face. For as much as Sam talked about hating hunting, as much he never wanted to do any of the things that Dad demanded of them, Sam was perfect at it, a born hunter. He was capable, detached, calm.

Everything that Adam never was.

Everything Adam wanted to be.

Adam had too many feelings, all the time. Everything was too much, or too hard or too scary. Sam was in control- all the time. He was never flustered on a hunt, never scared or shivering with fear. Even those times when he faced off against Dad, Sam wasn't scared or even nervous, and even if Sam had to back down it never felt like he lost.

That's what Adam wanted. He wanted that control.

Adam watched his brother more carefully after that, trying to figure out just how Sam had cultivated such intense self-control. It was an everyday argument between Dad and Sam a few days after he got his stitches out that that was the light bulb that finally clued Adam into how Sam was wired.

Rage.

That was how Sam kept so collected. He was pissed. He seemed calm and in control on the surface, but there was a volcano of rage building underneath. Adam had known for as long as he'd known his brother that Sam didn't like hunting, that he didn't want to be a hunter. But over the past year, the anger over their forced lifestyle had grown into something more. Something Adam couldn't quite put a finger on but could feel nonetheless. And that was enough for Adam.  
Screw being a doctor and helping people. He'd help people the same way that Dad and Dean did, by saving their lives before they got hurt. He'd already sworn to himself that he'd hunt down and murder every ghoul on the planet, so what was a few more supernatural dickheads?  
Adam rolled onto his stomach, feeling his backside ache with the movement, but chose to embrace the pain, to let it fuel him.

/-/-/  
She was wearing a gold cross…

Blood made her hands slippery as she grabbed at his face…

His blood was warm, smearing red across the white satin of the inside of the coffin…

Adam's blood-curdling scream filled the room, causing all three Winchesters to jump.

"Fuck!" Dean yelled, instantly jumping up from the couch and leaping over the back, rushing next to his little brother's side and grabbing Adam as he sat up in sleep and thrashed wildly.

"Adam! Kid! Wake up!" Dean yelled, shaking his brother.

Dad was suddenly on the other side of Adam, grabbing his arm, "Adam, you're ok son! You're ok!"

Adam finally pulled himself from the edge of his nightmare and opened his eyes; tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

"Breathe Adam," Sam reminded him from the end of the bed, "Try to breathe,"

Dean could feel Adam's pulse racing through the hold he had still had on the kid's hand, and he watched as his brother tried to slow down his rapid breathing to a more normal rate.

Dean sat down next to him on the bed, keeping a soft hold on Adam's arm.

"You're ok, dude," he said gently.

All the surly attitude he had seen across the table tonight at dinner was gone, and Dean was face to face with a little kid who looked like he'd seen death itself.

"Can you tell us what it was about?" Sam asked.

"Sam, leave him alone," Dean admonished without looking back, annoyed that his brother was probing at Adam so soon after his nightmare.

"I'm just trying to help Dean." Sam snapped, "You're supposed to try to recall the dream as soon as possible in order to determine its source trauma,"

"Sam." Dad cautioned, "That's enough."

Dean didn't have to turn around to feel the look of irritation that Sam had plastered on his face and he could tell by the change in his brother's breathing that he was huffing in frustration. It's not like Dean didn't want to figure out what was causing Adam's nightmares, shit anything that might stop them would be good, but pestering the kid with psycho-babble first thing was definitely not going to help.

"I'm ok," Adam said after a few minutes, clearly uncomfortable with having his whole family gathered around him staring.

"You sure son?" Dad questioned doubtfully.

"Yeah. Yeah," Adam said, taking a deep breath and pulling away from Dean's gentle hold, "I'm fine."

Dean exchanged a concerned glance with his father, who looked back at Adam in return.

"Hey, you know what kid," Dean said slapping the bed cheerfully, "This shit's gonna go away. You just wait,"

Adam looked at him skeptically and slumped down into the pillows, wincing.

"Yeah, whatever," he said.

Dean sighed and stood up, deciding not to keep pushing his brother, "Well that's about enough Full House heart to heart talk for me," he said, "I'm thinking about a pool game, you with me Sammy?"

"No thanks Dean," Sam said seriously.

"You're so fun, you know that?" Dean teased, "You in Dad? Wanna see what we can take the yokels in this town for?"

Dad considered for a moment, the replied, "Sure, but I'll just keep an eye out of you. I've got people to talk to tomorrow, don't wanna make any enemies just yet, it's a small town,"

Dean nodded in agreement and turned to grab his coat and boots.

"Sammy, find your brother a book or something to read. No lore, though," Dad ordered, glancing down at Adam with concern.

Sam nodded and reluctantly left the foot of Adam's bed to go dig through his makeshift backpack to find the books he'd borrowed from the library. Dad might have taken him there with the intent of researching history and hauntings, but there was no way Sam was gonna leave a library without some goodies of his own.

Before long Dad and Dean were gone and Sam was left deciding if Adam would prefer Wuthering Heights or A Portrait of Dorian Grey. Instinct said neither.

Adam had rolled over to face the wall again, resolutely ignoring his older brother as Sam walked over with the two books in hand.

"So I've got these," he said, sitting down on the end of the bed and tossing the books near his brother, "You might like them if you give them a chance,"

Adam glanced down at the books on the bed and turned back to the wall without saying anything.

Sam frowned at his brother's miserable attitude.

"Dude. Just talk about this with me. Just a little bit!" Sam implored, "I can help you if you just let me!"

Adam was silent, staring into the wall.

"Adam. Come on," Sam begged, "Please man. I want to help you,"

Adam stayed obstinately silent, glaring indifferently, refusing to acknowledge Sam's increasingly desperate pleas.

"Look, Adam," Sam said his voice becoming quiet, "I don't… I'm trying to help. I know you think you don't want help and… and maybe that's true. But you need to know that I'm here for you. And I don't want you to be dealing with this. You shouldn't be dealing with this. You deserve better. You're 13 years old for Christ's sakes. You shouldn't be thinking about murder and death all the time,"

"It's just…" Sam whispered, "I want… I need you to know that you don't have to do this. You don't have to be a hunter. I know it's what Dad wants and what Dean wants, but its hard and horrible and there are so many better things in the world. You can do better things. You don't have to be scared, or get hurt, or risk your life to help people,"

"I don't know what happened out there on the hunt. I don't know why it's messed you up so badly, but if you don't ever wanna go out again I'll back you up. I won't let Dad push you into this. I don't care what he says, or what it takes. If you don't wanna go, if you don't want to do it, I'll make sure you don't have to." Sam said vehemently, tightening his fists in determination.  
"Sam?" Adam whispered.

"Yeah?" Sam answered with surprise, not expecting Adam to say anything.

"Leave me alone."

/-/-/-/

Dean didn't know what the hell happened last night between his brothers while he and Dad were out playing pool, but whatever it was, it was bad enough that they now weren't speaking to each other and had cloaked the room in a miserable, tense silence.

Dad left on interviews early, right after morning PT, laying out instructions for each of them for the day. Adam was back to his full training schedule, which meant sparring and weapons training with Dean and lore and research with Sam. And since the youngest two Winchesters weren't speaking, Dean had graciously stepped up to start the day with weapons training instead of research.

"Come on kid," Dean said, grabbing his weapons duffle and heading out the door, hoping he could find a nice secluded spot where he and Adam could practice throwing knives.

Adam was predictably silent on the drive, staring off into space, which seemed to be his new hobby lately.

"Hey kid," Dean said, lightly shoving his brother to get his attention, "You gonna snap out of this or what?"

Adam scowled back at him, "So you too now?"

"Look, I don't know what you're so twisted up about. That hunt went great," Dean said happily. "Killed the bad guy and walked away to tell about it,"

Across the car, Adam sighed.

"Oh, what?" Dean asked, "You aren't really upset that you killed her, are you? Come on! Be proud of that shit! I am! You kicked it in the ass!"

Dean glanced over to see his little brother ducking his head to hide the smile Dean knew was growing on his face.

"Come on dude. Whatever is eating at you, just ignore it." Dean advised.

"Are you serious? Ignore it?" Adam asked sincerely, turning to look at him.

"Yeah man." Dean said earnestly, "You bury that shit, ok? That's how you deal. You lock it up and never think about it again,"

"Is that what you do?"

"Yeah. Wax on. Wax off." Dean said, grinning across the car.

Adam stared back at him unsure.

"You'll be fine." Dean assured easily, "First kill is always crazy. But you did it. And you saved Dad's ass in the process. That's nothing to sneeze at."

"Who knows kid," he continued, "Keep it up and you might even become the second best hunter in this family," Dean teased, finally getting a small smile from his youngest brother.

It wasn't long before Dean found a secluded enough spot for their training and he was glad to say that his little pep talk before their session had seemed to lighten Adam's mood considerably.

And on top of that Adam was finally making some progress with the throwing knives. The kid had a decent aim, but he'd been having trouble getting the knife to land in the target, instead of smashing against it and clattering to the ground.

"Well if you don't stab the guy, you'll at least knock him out," Dean joked, picking up another knife off the forest floor where he and Adam had stationed to practice.

"Why do I suck so badly at all this?" Adam asked.

"You don't kid," Dean said, walking back and handing him the knife, "You're still new at it,"

"No I'm not Dean," Adam said taking the knife and twisting it around, playing with the grip, "I've been with you guys for over a year now. I should be better. You and Sam were probably never this bad."

"Come on, you ever seen a 9-year-old try to hit one of these?" Dean teased.

"Yeah, 9-year-old," Adam said, gloomily.

"Jeez," Dean said rolling his eyes, "Could you lighten up a little kid? It's like living in a damn Hallmark movie with you lately,"

Adam scowled at him and looked down at the knife.

Dean stared at the top of his little brother's head, contemplating his next move. With Sam, it would be the time to sit down and have the heart to heart. Sam always needed that, he needed to talk about what he was feeling and get everything out of his system. Dean wasn't so sure Adam was like that though. Adam seemed to have a little more of Dean's 'man up and shut up' mentality about him, which was a little surprising since he grew up with Kate and not John. Dean had figured it was just Dad's natural gruffness that made Dean not want to talk about his feelings, but maybe it was an inherit Winchester trait.

"Come on, let's get some pie," Dean said suddenly, grabbing the knife from Adam's hands and walking over to grab his weapons duffle from the ground.

"Pie?" Adam asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Pie." Dean answered like it was the most obvious answer to the problem.

"Or what? You want cake?" Dean offered, pausing as he walked towards Adam.

Adam stared at his brother, confused and contemplating his answer. He knew Dean was working hard to help him, trying to lighten his mood and encourage him and it was actually working a little. As much as he wanted to stay angry and moody, wanted to brush off his brother's olive branch, the vulnerability in Dean's eye as he stood asking about cake caused him to think better of it.

"What about doughnuts? Could we get doughnuts?" Adam asked.

Dean instantly grinned with relief, "Hell yes we can get doughnuts. Grab your shit. Let's go,"  
Adam had to smile at Dean's enthusiasm and walked over to grab his own discarded bag from the ground. If Dean could put aside all the bad memories he had and find happiness in a little fried dough, maybe Adam could too.

/-/-/-/-

"Hey, Sammy! We brought breakfast!" Dean announced as he and Adam walked back into the motel room.

"I thought you guys were training?" Sam asked, watching as they shed their coats and boots by the door.

"This is training," Dean assured him, putting the box of doughnuts on the table and opening it up, "Hunting 101, know where to get the good food in town. Come on, we even got your favorite: Vanilla."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's teasing but abandoned his stacks of books and papers on the motel bed to come over to the table.

"You making any progress over there?" Dean asked around a mouthful of chocolate glaze, motioning to the mess on the bed.

"Actually yeah," Sam said, leaning over and picking out a plain glazed donut from the box.

"Really?" Adam asked, his curiosity causing him to momentarily forget his self-imposed silence towards his brother.

"Yeah," Sam replied glancing at him, clearly noting that they were once again speaking, "Something weird has been going on in this town, that's for sure. But not our normal hauntings and spirits," he said, taking a bite of the doughnut and walking over to the bed to grab something.

"Check this out," he said handing a paper out to Dean, "Over the last six weeks there have been four reports from local farmers about unusual crop and animal activities. This guy," he said pointing at the paper, "Said that overnight 40 of his cows just dropped dead. Then two weeks later there were three other reports of farmers losing their entire tobacco crop overnight, no sign of fire, or pests or foul play. The plants were just demolished,"

"What the hell?" Dean asked quietly, studying the paper.

"Yeah, and get this," Sam said walking quickly back over to the bed, "There have been unexplainable weather events in the area too, all around the same time: flash flooding with no rain, lightning storms with no clouds, all kinds of bizarre crap,"

"Ok yeah, that's weird," Dean said.

"What does that mean Sam?" Adam asked, feeling a little nervous about the fact that neither brother seemed to immediately know what all this stuff meant.

"I don't know for sure," Sam admitted slowly, looking at Dean.

Dean looked back at him cautiously.

"You think it's the thing that killed mom?" Dean asked carefully.

"Maybe," Sam confessed, "I think Dad might have found the trail,"

Sam and Dean were silent for a moment, staring at each other intensely.

"Why wouldn't Dad say anything about this?" Adam asked breaking the silence, "I mean he's been hunting this thing forever. Why wouldn't he say he's finally found something?"

"Cause it's Dad," Sam said, shrugging off the glare he received from Dean at his statement.

"We don't know, ok kid?" Dean said answering Adam's question, "But he has his reasons. It could be too dangerous..."

"Yeah or he's afraid he's wrong," Sam interrupted.

"Shut up Sam." Dean snapped.

"Ok… so..." Adam started, "So if it is the thing that killed your mom, what does that mean? Is it here? Can we kill it?"

Dean glanced over at Sam and paused, licking his lips in apprehension before replying, "I don't know. We'd have to know what it was before we'd know how to kill it,"

"I'm not sure it matters at this point anyway," Sam said sitting down heavily on the bed, "All these signs stopped about three weeks ago. That's the last record I found of them anyway,"

"So it's gone?' Adam questioned.

"I don't know," Sam replied, "But I bet that's what Dad is out there trying to figure out,"

"What if it's not gone?" Adam asked, feeling a little quiver of terror in his stomach.

"Don't worry kid, you're safe," Dean said, noticing the tremble Adam tried to hide.

"I know! I'm not scared!" Adam fired back, anger and embarrassment quickly replacing the fleeting feelings of fear.

"What should we do Dean?" Sam asked seriously.

Dean was quiet for a long time, breathing deeply and considering their next move.

"Nothing," he said finally, looking from brother to brother, "Dad has this under control. If he needed our help or wanted it, he'd say something. We're gonna pretend we don't know any of this stuff."

"You got it?" He asked, looking pointedly at Adam.

"Why are you looking at me?" Adam questioned in annoyance.

"I mean both of you," Dean said, giving Sam a serious look as well, "We sit on this. Ok?"

Sam sighed but nodded "Fine. For now,"

"Forever," Dean said firmly, causing Sam to frown at him.

"Look, just eat your damn doughnut alright? You and the kid need to get to work anyway," Dean said, grabbing another doughnut from the box.

"What are you gonna do?" Adam asked as Dean stood up and walked over to the bed that wasn't covered in Sam's research materials.

"Nap." He said, flopping down and taking an enormous bite of the doughnut, "Get to work you two," he smirked, mouth full.

"Gross," Sam said, turning away from him. "I guess we could start with some of this stuff," he said to Adam, pointing down towards the papers on the bed.

"Try again Sammy," Dean mumbled around the remaining half of the doughnut he'd crammed in his mouth, "If dad sees all that," he said chewing and pointing "he's gonna know we know. So wrap it up and teach the kid about witches or something,"

"I already know about witches Dean," Adam grumbled.

"Fine. Start on all the biblical lore, that'll take forever," Dean said swallowing the last of his bite and nestling down into the pillows on the bed, "But keep it quiet. I need my beauty sleep."

"Sleep's not gonna fix that," Sam teased, earning himself a middle finger from Dean who kept his eyes resolutely closed over on the bed as if flipping Sam off in his sleep.

Sam glanced over at Adam and they exchanged looks for an awkward moment. Sam sat on the bed, watching his younger brother, sitting hesitantly beside a half dozen doughnuts and he wanted to smile. He almost did smile, but then he remembered why Adam had stopped speaking to him and the hurt of being rebuffed when he was only trying to help and the moment was sullied, and Sam had to look away.

"You gonna actually study today or are we gonna fight about it?" Sam asked seriously.

Adam didn't respond immediately but didn't look away from Sam's demanding stare.

"I'll study," he said finally, a challenge lingering in his voice despite his compliant words.

"Good." Sam said simply, letting his gaze drop, "Cause we're gonna do schoolwork too. You don't wanna be behind when we get back in class,"

"That's not what Dad said," Adam protested lowly.

"I don't care what Dad said, you need a real education too," Sam replied.

"I've had a real education, thank you very much," Adam sneered, "Look where it's gotten me,"

"Yeah and if you continue your education you could get out of this place," Sam continued.

"Jesus, you two will you knock it off already?" Dean groused from the bed.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Adam asked, ignoring Dean's protest, "I don't need to get out of anything. This is where I'm supposed to be,"

"Really Adam?" Sam said standing up, his temper flaring, "This is where you are supposed to be? This is where your mom wanted you to be? Don't you think there's a reason that she never went out on the road with Dad? Maybe cause she didn't want this life for you? Maybe cause she wanted you to have better?"

Adam jumped up from the table and shoved Sam as hard as he could. "Don't talk about her!" he screamed.

"She wanted more for you Adam! She wanted you to be a doctor!" Sam yelled, bouncing back from his brother's shove and crowding him, unable to leash the beast of fury and frustration inside him once it had been set loose.

Suddenly Dean was between them, pushing Sam back onto the bed and pulling Adam away from him and toward the door.

"Stop! Stop!" he screamed, grabbing Adam and catching the fist that was headed Sam's way.

"Knock it off!" Dean yelled again, pushing Adam back again and turning to glare at Sam.

"Outside Sam!" he yelled, pointing at Sam with one hand and keeping the other hand firmly on Adam's rapidly rising and falling chest.

Sam glared at him, but bent down and slid on his boots, grabbing his jacket from the end of the bed.

"And you," Dean said, turning toward Adam, "grab a doughnut and go chill out," he said pointing to the couch in front of the tv.

Adam's face was flushed with anger and adrenaline, but he swallowed hard and followed his brother's orders, making a big step around Sam when his brother came close on his way out.  
Sam barely had a foot out the door before Dean was on top of him, shoving him forward, causing him to stumble off the sidewalk and into the parking lot.

"What the hell Sam?" Dean yelled, fury lacing his voice.

"He needs to study Dean," Sam said, lamely trying to excuse his temper and the shame of the realization of what he'd just said to his little brother.

"And talking to him like that is gonna help him study huh? What were you thinking?"

"His mom wanted him to be a doctor Dean! A doctor!" Sam yelled, becoming defensive and angry again.

"So?" Dean asked in indifference.

"He won't study Dean. He doesn't care about a normal education all the sudden. Before this last hunt, he was doing well in school. He even wanted to know if getting expelled would hurt his chances at college. Now? Nothing. He doesn't say a word about school or the future. Just nothing."

"And?" Dean asked.

"And! And whatever happened on that hunt has screwed him up! You know it. I know it! He's not the same!" Sam pressed. "And he won't talk about it. And you and Dad keep telling him how great he did and how its part of the job, but can't you see how much more that's messing him up?"

"What are you talking about Sam? The kid is having some bad dreams. It's not a big deal."

"Dean. Come on. Don't do this. Don't look the other way on this one!" Sam begged, "He needs some help! Not just Dad telling him to 'man up' and get over it,"

Dean shook his head and stared at his brother.

"You know what man? What makes you the expert?" he asked, "Yeah, I know you read this... you read that...but why don't you really look at the kid and see what he needs? Maybe he doesn't need to talk. Maybe he just needs to forget for a while. Maybe he's not ready to deal with it yet."

The retort Sam was already building died in his throat, Dean's perceptiveness of their youngest brother shocking him into silence.

"I just want to help," Sam whispered.

"I know you do," Dean said quietly.

"I want what's best for him Dean," Sam admitted quietly, "And after this hunt… I just don't think he should be a hunter."

"Sam…" Dean started.

"Dean listen, really," Sam implored, "You know I don't like hunting, but aside from that…Adam…I just don't know if he has it in him. Look at how his training is going man. Its been over a year and still…"

"Sammy," Dean warned.

"His mom didn't want this for him, Dean. I'm not wrong about that." Sam said confidently,  
changing tactics "She wanted him to be a doctor, to do something important."

"I know you're not saying that hunting isn't important," Dean cautioned.

"No. I'm not. I'm saying he doesn't have to do this. Maybe it's not right for him,"

"Why are you so intent on turning him off hunting Sammy?" Dean asked concernedly, "It's the family business, man. It's what we do,"

"Yeah what we do. But it doesn't have to be what Adam does Dean. He's more normal than us. He can be different. He can have a normal life again,"

"What is your obsession with normal?" Dean asked in frustration. "He's fine!"

Dean shook his head in annoyance with his brother. "Come on Sam. Stop overthinking this. Just let the kid lead his life, let him make his own choices!"

"Yeah, like all those choices Dad is deciding for him?" Sam said cynically.

"He's 13 Sam!" Dean yelled, finally giving in to his own frustration, "Give the kid a freaking minute. He doesn't know what the hell he wants! Dad is just trying to keep him safe,"

"Dad's trying to make him into a killing machine, just like he's done with us," Sam growled.

"Stop putting all your issues with Dad onto Adam," Dean said firmly, "If the kid likes hunting, he likes it. He sure as hell kicked ass when the chips were down. And I for one think his training is going great,"

Sam stared at Dean incredulously for a moment, before a realization dawned on him.

"Dean, you can't keep him safe." Sam said, "Hunting is life and death. Dad says it all the time. It ends bad and bloody. Why do you want that for him?"

"Sam stop being such a drama queen," Dean said, brushing off his brother's sincerity.

"He could be safe. Normal is safe," Sam said quietly.

"Jesus! What is it with you two today?" Deans said throwing up his hands in bewildered frustration, "What are we doing here, a very special Blossom? Just leave him alone Sam," he said, turning on his heels and going back into the motel room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam watched his brother go but didn't follow despite the cold that was seeping through his coat.  
Why couldn't Dean see that Sam was trying to save their brother? Why would he let Adam keep hunting, keep leaping into danger that could get him killed?

Fury began to rise inside Sam as he stood motionless in the icy motel parking lot. Dean was always touting how Sam and Adam were his job, his number one responsibility, and yet he kept encouraging Adam to hunt, to keep self-sacrificing, to keep pushing down his feelings. How was that taking care of the kid?

The more Sam thought the angrier he became. It was one thing for Dad to force Adam into hunting, but for Dean keep confirming the indoctrination was more than he could stand. Adam practically worshiped his older brothers, Dean especially. Despite the rocky start they'd had in the beginning when Adam first joined them, Adam and Dean had become incredibly close over the past few months, close enough to admittedly create some jealousy for a newly middle brother. They shared a similar sense of humor and Adam seemed to be more willing than Sam to embrace Dean's perpetually nonchalant attitude toward their lifestyle. Although he still relied more on Sam for emotional support, at least until recently, Sam knew Adam held Dean's word above his own. Whether that was part of his brainwashing into the military hierarchy Dad had ingrained in them or simply Adam having more respect or camaraderie with Dean, Sam was unsure. Either way, the whole thing was making him furious with both his brothers.

Dean was right about one thing. Adam would make his own choice about hunting. But with Dad and Dean constantly brainwashing him about how great and important hunting was, Sam wasn't sure his proposal of 'normal' would entice the kid.

Sam just wanted his family to be safe. Was that too much to ask?

He'd already known there was no way he'd ever convince Dean or Dad to stop hunting. Hunting was 90% of Dean's personality and he thrived on it. And Dad's own obsession would never let him rest. Adam was the last flicker of hope that Sam had on keeping part of his family safe from the tragedy that seemed to follow them.

If Adam drank the 'family business' kool-aid and dedicated himself to Dad's mission, Sam wasn't sure what he'd do. He just couldn't hang around and wait for his little brother die the same death he feared for his father and older brother. He wouldn't survive it. He knew he wouldn't. Sam had lived in abject terror all his life of the possibility of living through Dean's death every time his brother left on a hunt. Now with Adam, the stakes were too high. The cost would be more than Sam could pay.

He couldn't take it. Dean meant too much. Adam meant too much. Even Dad. His entire family was single-mindedly racing toward their deaths in pursuit of revenge, and Sam couldn't handle it. He didn't want to.

He didn't want to hunt and kill things. Even the hopes of making the world a better, safer place weren't enough to balance out the fear of losing everything that was important to him.

No.

If Dean continued to follow orders, to brainwash his little brother… If Adam decided revenge was worth more than a real life... Sam was out.

Thoughts of college and the crumpled applications hidden deep in the bottom of his backpack that was probably still locked in his locker back at West Wilson High School filled his mind. At first, he'd wanted to go college to better himself, to learn more and find a career outside of hunting. Then as time drug on and Dad became more drill sergeant than father, Sam found himself seeing college as an escape. Now, standing in the chilly parking lot of the Rest EZ Motel, brown grass growing through the cracks in the pavement, Sam realized that college could be the end of his fear for his family.

Sam had suspected for a while that if he were to announce that he was going off to college, he wouldn't be supported. In fact, he was pretty sure that Dad would take it as an affront to everything he held dear and Sam would be cast out of the family forever. As much as that thought hurt, cut him deep down to his bones, logically he wondered if it might be for the best. If he were to be shunned, to have all family contact cut off from him, then maybe he could mourn their loss and begin to heal. He knew that the grief would live inside of him, just as it already lived inside his father and brothers, but maybe living with the loss would be better than fearing it every day.

"Sam!" Dean called, leaning out the door of the motel room, "Get in here, will you? It's freezing,"  
Sam nodded at his brother and shoved down his thoughts, seizing the fear and pain coursing through him and funneling it back into the tight control he kept over himself.

He'd watch his brothers, but he'd make keep making his college plans. He'd have to if he was going to survive.

/-/-/-/-/

EPILOGUE  
Timeline: September 2002, Adam is 15 years old. Sam has been gone for two years.

"Hey." Adam said, coming to stand near Dean as he leaned against the Impala, wiping the blood from his knife.

"Hey," he replied not looking up.

"Look, I know I've been an asshole for a while now," Adam admitted to the gravel under their feet, kicking at some of the loose stones.

He felt Dean turn and look at him, but predictably, his brother said nothing.

"I don't mean it, not really," Adam started, struggling to find the words for what he wanted to say, "but…like… you know I still get nightmares after a kill,"

"Yeah I know," Dean scoffed.

"Yeah well… It's not the kill though. I don't want you to think I'm… Look I don't care about those bastards, but sometimes, it's just the blood or whatever… it makes me dream about my mom.

About when she died, when I was there…" Adam choked out, staring down at the wet, red-tinged blade in Dean's hands.

Dean abruptly stopped cleaning the weapon and pulled it to his side, shielding it from his brother's view.

"You don't have to…" Dean started softly, watching Adam's young face.

"No. No. I know," he said, taking a steadying breath, "But I'm a jerk and I figured you deserve to know why. Maybe you won't get mad at me,"

"I'm not mad at you, kid," Dean said sincerely.

Adam grunted, "You should be. I'm an asshole," he joked.

"Join the club man," Dean replied with a smile and shrug.

Adam tried to smile, but it was weak and he couldn't complete the gesture, "Well, sorry if I wake you up tonight,"

"'S alright man," Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Adam looked back down into the gravel pensively, "I wish I could tell Sam,"

Adam heard Dean's breathe caught in his throat at the discomfort of the still aching wound their brother's departure had left within him.

"He was so nice to me when it first started happening, after that hunt with the shifter, you remember that?" Adam asked.

"Yeah…" Dean replied quietly.

"He just kept trying to help me and talk to me. And I was such a little dick to him," Adam said quietly, remembering his young hurt and confusion.

His brother was silent next to him, lost in his own thoughts of Sam and their last exchange.

"I wish I could apologize," Adam said, more to himself than to Dean.

Dean didn't respond and the silence hung in the air between them until Dean cleared his throat roughly and stood up, walking around the car and opening the trunk, throwing in the knife and the rag he'd been using to clean it. Adam stood up from where he was leaning as well, following Dean to throw his own sticky knife in the trunk.

Dean shut the trunk with a heavy thud and walked around, opening the car door and sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Adam wasn't offended by the silence; he hadn't expected his brother to say anything. It was just another part of not having Sam around anymore, something that had become familiar, but never comfortable.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/  
A/N- And that's the end of the case fic! Back to your regularly schedule angsty one-shots! :) Hope you all liked this one and it was a worthwhile ending to a long one-shot series. Let me know what you think and if you have some ideas!


	28. The Runaways

_Timeline- Adam is 13 years old, events occur during the March before Sam leaves for Stanford._

Sam spotted the kid quickly, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk knees pulled up tightly to his chest, his head resting on them as he stared out into the parking lot listlessly. Sam sighed, relieved he'd found Adam safely, but also wishing it wasn't at the local bus station. He'd been praying that Adam would be found at a friend's house or at the mall or even the library, but the dour look on the kid's face made it clear what Sam already knew: Adam was over this life and running away. He approached Adam slowly, not wanting to scare him into bolting.

"Adam," he said calmly.

Adam jumped at the sound of his name, immediately grabbing his duffle from the ground beside him making the move to run.

"Hey…hey" Sam said, holding open his hands in a gesture of peace, "I'm not gonna drag you back."

Adam eyed him warily, "You're not?" he questioned.

Sam shook his head and sat down on the curb next to his younger brother. "No. I totally get wanting to run away."

Adam stared down at his shoes, attempting to ignore his brother.

"Where were you planning to go?" Sam asked.

Adam shrugged, continuing to stare at his shoes.

"Really, I'm just curious."

Adam sighed not looking at Sam, "Figured I go back to Windom, stay with some friends till I got a job."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle, "You know a lot of places hiring 13-year-olds?" he scoffed.

Adam glared at him; hurt visible in his eyes and Sam instantly regretted the dig. He had come here to help this kid, not make fun of him.

Adam was quiet again and had returned to staring out into the bus station parking lot. Sam sat quietly as well, unsure on how he wanted to continue the conversation. Part of him wanted to let the kid go, let him run and be free of the life that Sam himself hated so deeply. But the more logical part of his brain realized that Adam was 13 years old, with no one to run to and no real skills to make running even possible. At least when Sam had run away he'd known enough about stealing, lying and recognizing danger to be able to take care of himself for a while.

Sam sighed with resignation. "I ran away." he started, receiving a shocked stare from Adam. "When I was about your age actually."

"Went to Flagstaff, Arizona. It was two weeks before Dad and Dean found me." Sam explained. He looked down to find that Adam was still staring up at him, urging him to continue.

"I hitchhiked, hot-wired a car, took a bus, did everything I could to cover my tracks. I got a little cabin out on the edge of a state park and found the coolest dog you could imagine. I always wanted a dog..." Sam said, staring off into the distance, remembering how happy he was in Flagstaff, how light he felt being out from under his father's thumb. He had relished the time he spent taking care of himself, deciding what he wanted to do and when not worrying about monsters and training.

"It was a great time actually," Sam admitted.

"Yeah?" Adam said hopefully.

"Yeah. 'Till Dad found me." Sam said as Adam's face fell. Sam could feel his own mood darken at the memory of John bursting into the cabin, red-faced with anger and fear. He had lunged at Sam, pulling him into a crushing hug and scanning him for injuries before glancing around at the cabin. Upon seeing no predator or villain holding him hostage John had shaken Sam hard enough to jar his head and rattle his teeth, before he boxed his ears and stormed out, screaming for Sam to follow. After the dizziness of the hit had passed, Sam gave his dog one last soft rub between the ears and headed out to the Impala parked in the dirt in front of the cabin. He had passed Dean sitting in the front seat, his face stoic and hard. Sam knew there would be no sympathy or understanding from his big brother on this one. Dean would never understand why Sam just had to get away.

Shaking his head to clear the hurtful memory, Sam glanced down at his younger brother. Being a big brother still felt new to him, especially in times like this. Sam knew he wanted to give Adam the understanding and empathy he never got from Dean, but he also couldn't openly support him running away.

"Adam..." Sam started but stopped short, confused about how he wanted to say what he wanted to say. "Adam, look. I get why you wanna run away. I do. You know I do. I probably hate hunting more than anyone, but running away won't work."

"I'm not staying," Adam said quietly, then mumbled something Sam couldn't quite hear.

"Hmm?" Sam said, leaning down toward his younger brother.

Adam took a deep breath, but didn't look at Sam. "I'm not staying. Not after you go." He said firmly.

Sam was shocked. He hadn't told anyone about the colleges he'd applied to, or the acceptance letters he had received. He'd shredded each one after Pastor Jim had shown them to him. How could Adam have found out?

"How..." Sam whispered, mentally racing to retrace his steps to find the flaw in his plan. He'd been so careful to keep his college intentions from Dad and Dean, knowing how seriously they would react.

"I overheard Mr. Gregory congratulate you last week. He said Stanford is a really tough school to get into."

Sam nodded slowly, remembering the compliment he had received. Adam must have been just behind the door Mr. Gregory had come out of.

"Yeah..." Sam said quietly.

"I'm not staying after you go," Adam said again.

"Why after I go?" Sam questioned, he understood wanting to run away from the hunting life, but why would his own exit make a difference?

"Cause Dad will make Dean keep staying with me and training me and I know Dean just wants to go out on his own. It's not fair. And I'm no good at hunting anyway. I'd rather just go on my own and start over."

Now it made sense. Adam wasn't stupid. He'd seen the pattern of neglect in John's parenting. The fact that Sam and Adam were more often alone in Dean's care then their fathers wasn't lost on him. Sam was pretty sure that Adam was right; after he left Dean would still be wholly responsible for Adam, his training and his day-to-day wellbeing. Sam also knew what Adam knew, that Dean loved hunting. He flourished in it. Suddenly Sam understood Adam's dilemma. Selfishly Dean's future was not something Sam had ever considered. He'd been so focused on escaping his father; he'd never stopped to wonder if he was holding his own brother back. Sam felt a little ashamed that his 13-year-old brother had more sympathy and worry for Dean then he had ever thought to give.

"Dean does want to hunt, Adam, you're right about that. But it's not like you are a burden to him. He loves you," Sam said.

Adam shook his head. "No. Dean loves you, he tolerates me."

"Adam, that's not true."

"It is true Sam. He doesn't love me; he just knows he has to take care of me. I'm his responsibility- nothing more." Adam said flatly.

"Adam..."  
"He almost never uses my name, just calls me 'kid', or some other stupid nickname. He yells at me, he never wants to listen to anything I have to say. Every time he looks at me it feels like he's telling me to shut up."

Sam had expected Adam to cry or get mad, but instead, he sat on the curb motionless, as if he didn't have any energy left in him.

"Adam, Dean does care about you," Sam said, trying to get Adam to look him in the eye, "Right now he's tearing up half of this town looking for you."

"Only cause Dad will kill him if he can't find me," Adam mumbled to the ground.

"No," Sam said, "Dean's scared shitless something could have happened to you. Family is the most important thing to Dean, he'd do anything for family- and you are family."

Adam didn't respond, still seemingly not convinced.

"You know how you're gonna know how much he cares about you?" Sam asked, "By how much he wants to kill you when you come back. If Dean didn't love you, he wouldn't give a shit about you leaving. Dean's gonna throttle you and probably break a few ribs hugging you." Sam smiled.  
Adam rolled his eyes, " Yeah that makes me wanna go back,"

"Look I already told you, I'm not here to force you back. You can make your own decisions. But if you leave, make it for the right reasons. Run to something, not just away."

"Is that what you're doing?" Adam questioned, knowingly.

Sam paused a moment, considering.

"Yeah. It is." He confirmed. "Besides, you can't do shit out there on your own till you're 18 anyway. Why do you think I'm waiting till May to tell Dad about college? I gotta make sure he can't drag me back."

Adam nodded thoughtfully and both boys went quiet.

"I'm still not staying after you go," Adam said finally.

The reply surprised Sam. He was silent as he considered what say.

"Ok," he said, after a few moments. "Let me help you come up with a plan, something that will get you free of Dad and Dean but keeps you safe. Maybe moving in with Bobby or Pastor Jim for a while? Just give me some time to think."

Adam was quiet for a moment considering, before finally nodding in agreement "Yeah. Ok".

"Alright, you wanna go back with me?" Sam asked, trying to offer his little brother a choice, even though he knew Adam would accept.

"Yeah ok," Adam said begrudgingly, standing up and grabbing his duffle.

"Hey," Sam said, stopping Adam with a hand on his arm, "Keep your mouth shut about college ok?" he said seriously.

"Yeah, of course," Adam said casually like he had never considered telling Dad and Dean anything.

"Yeah ok," Sam said, breathing a small sigh of relief and leading Adam out of the bus station and down the road back to the motel.


	29. Girls, Girls, Girls

_Timeline- Back in time again…This story takes place in June after Sam has turned 18, but has not yet left for college. Adam is 13 years old._

/-/-/-/-

Dean was a damn magician.

That was the only explanation. How else could he have gotten the waitress’s phone number the in ten minutes since they sat down in the booth?

Adam sat across from his older brother watching the master at work; smiling flirtatiously up at the young blonde waitress asking when her shift ended. Adam, on the other hand, was surreptitiously working on pulling his sticky legs off the fake red leather restaurant seat without making any embarrassing noise. He could thank June in Oklahoma for that one.

They were sitting in a back booth of a local restaurant, grabbing lunch and waiting to meet up with Dad after his interview with the county coroner. They were all here working a cursed object case, one that had caused the deaths of four people over the last month. But Adam couldn’t have cared less about the hunt at the moment. He was way more interested in trying to study and absorb the skill and charisma Dean was using to snag his latest date.

How did his brother freaking do it?

In every town, in every restaurant, in every bar, women fell at his feet. They practically tripped over themselves to get his attention half the time. Dean could get dates, information, favors, anything he wanted by just batting his eyelashes and smiling.

It was infuriating.

Especially when Adam considered how embarrassingly hard he’d already tried to imitate his brother. Like a million times. It always ended in the same awkward mortification that had him wishing he could hide under a rock and die.

Like even now, when Sam was sitting next to him glued to the local newspaper and Dean was grinning up at the busty, young waitress, Adam was stuck awkwardly adjusting himself and trying not to stare at the woman’s chest that was two feet from his face.

Being 13 sucked.

When the waitress threw Dean another flirty smile, saying she’d be back with their food in just a minute; Adam couldn’t help but beg his brother for some pointers.

“Dean! Man, how do you do it?” he asked, leaning across the table conspiratorially.

“Do what?” Dean asked casually, stretching out comfortably in the booth throwing an arm over the backrest with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

“Do that,” Adam said, nodding toward the waitress who was now behind the counter, coyly sneaking glances back toward Dean. “You make it look so easy!”

“It is easy, kid” Dean replied with an annoying amount of self-satisfied superiority.

“No it’s not,” Adam implored, “Trust me. The last girl I tried to hit on just looked at me and said ‘No’.”

“Ha!” Sam barked out suddenly from beside him and Adam gave his brother a shove in response.

Across the table, Dean chuckled at him too.

“It’s not funny guys,” Adam said, his cheeks growing red in embarrassment.

“Dude. It’s funny.” Dean laughed.

“Ok. Ok. What’s the problem?” he asked becoming serious at seeing Adam’s plain embarrassment and distress.

“I don’t know. I just... I don’t know,” Adam admitted, staring down at the speckled diner tabletop.

“Ok,” Dean said, taking his arm off the back of the booth and sitting up a little more, “So what do you say to them? The girls you like?”

“I don’t know…” Adam said again uncertainly, giving another shrug of his shoulders.

“Ok, well…” Dean said sitting forward and resting his forearms on the table between them, ready to get serious with his brother, “Well, it’s good to start with a question.”

“Like that guy from Friends?” Adam asked, “How you doing?” he said with a flirty nod toward Dean, doing his best impression of the guy he’d seen on tv.

Beside him, Sam sniggered and ducked his head.

“No.” Dean said flatly, staring back at Adam. “Stop it. Never do that again.”

Adam deflated and slumped onto the table, resting his chin in his hands, “Ok, what then?”

“Something nice,” Dean replied certainly.

“Nice?”

“Yeah. Nice.” Dean said again, causing his brother to squint at him in confusion.

“Sam?” he said, turning slightly to his middle brother indicating that Sam should explain what Adam was clearly too dense to understand.

“Like if you’re in a restaurant, you ask her what she likes to eat there. Library? Ask her about the book she’s got. School? You ask her she thought if Mr. So and So’s class was as boring as you did.” Sam clarified, only halfway looking up from his newspaper.

“Yeah.” Dean agreed, “Be friendly”

“Be friendly? That’s your advice?” Adam asked cynically.

Dean grinned back at him and nodded.

“You gotta be kidding me. How am I supposed to get a girl with that?” Adam shot back in irritation.

“Girls aren’t something you get dude,” Dean said waxing poetic, “They’re something you get to enjoy,”

Adam just stared back at him, annoyed.

“Sam, help me out here,” Dean said.

“Sorry dude,” Sam said with a scoff. “I’ve got no clue what the hell you’re saying,”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother and turned back to Adam, “What I’m saying is… that girls…women…they’re awesome. They’re fun and fun to play with. You just gotta talk to them and have fun with them. Smile, flirt, enjoy it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Adam spat, completely irritated with his brother’s useless advice.

“I’m an idiot who’s getting laid tonight. What are you?” Dean retorted.

Adam scowled at his brother.

“Look,” Dean said nodding up and over Adam’s shoulder; “There’s a girl your age over there at the counter. Probably waiting on a to-go order or something. Go talk to her,”

“No way!” Adam said immediately.

There was no way in hell he wanted to go over and talk to a random girl. He had no idea what to say, how to “be friendly and enjoy it” like Dean so uselessly suggested.

“Come on dude,” Dean pressed, “Just go ask her something. Say hi at least.”

“No man. No way,” Adam protested, sitting straight up in his seat, resolute in his rejection of Dean’s stupid idea.

“Go on man,” Sam teased from beside him, scooting closer to Adam so that he was slowly pushing him out of the booth.

“Quit Sam!” Adam complained, pushing back at his brother “No. No. I’m not going,”

“Go on kid. Don’t be a chicken. Man up,” Dean said, confidently.

“No…” Adam said halfheartedly, aware that Sam was inching him out of the booth despite his best attempts to stay seated.

“Go man!” Sam said with one final shoved that pushed Adam out of the booth so fast that he almost landed on his ass in the middle of the restaurant.

Adam stood up quickly, scowling at his brothers and knowing there was no way they were gonna let him sit back down in the booth until he’d gone and said something to that girl at the counter.

With another angry stare, which caused both his brothers to snicker at him, Adam turned around and walked toward the counter, his mind spinning to come up with something to say to her that wasn’t dorky and embarrassing.

He walked as slowly as he could, taking a deep breath to embolden himself before the last step that left him standing next to her.

“Hey,” he said lightly, giving her a quick side-glance.

Dean was right; she was probably around his age. And cute too. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she had soft, pale skin with pierced ears holding small silver studs and beautiful pink lips that pulled back into a small half smile when she turned to him and replied, “Hey.”

Ok, first step, Adam thought.

He leaned up against the counter, grabbing one of the menus lying there, “So uh...” he asked clearing his throat awkwardly praying his voice would do that thing where it came out as a squeak, “What uh...what do you like to eat? Uh… eat here I mean?”

The girl eyed him from the side for a moment and Adam felt his heart pound in his chest as his stomach twisted in apprehension. Then she turned just a little, giving Adam his first full view of her face.

Her stunning, beautiful, amazing face.

Her face just looking right back at him.

Adam gulped and suddenly realized he’d been in a daze and she was actually talking to him.

“…is ok I guess.” She was saying.

Crap. What did she say?

Man, her hair was so shiny.

Adam was lost for a minute, thinking about how he’d like to touch her hair, just run his hands over her head and pull her down for a kiss. Just like in the movies.

“So yeah…” she was saying again, peering at him in growing confusion.

Don’t be weird! He thought angrily at himself.

Adam shook himself, “That sounds good…” he said, trailing off and trying to figure out what in the hell he was gonna say next.

Just be friendly.

Dean’s advice flooded his ears, but what in the hell did that even mean?

Quickly glancing over his shoulder he saw both his older brothers staring at him, eagerly watching the situation unfold.

“Uhhh…” Adam stuttered, looking down toward the menu that was clenched in his sweating palms.

“Uhhh,” he started again.

Fuck it, he thought.

“You see those guys back there?” he asked quietly, throwing a glance to the side indicating that she should look behind him.

“Yeah,” she said, eyes darting to his brothers and back again.

“My brothers.” Adam said, putting the menu down, “And they aren’t gonna let me come back to the table ‘till I get your number,”

The girl looked at Adam skeptically then glanced around him again to look back at Sam and Dean.

“The dark haired one is kinda cute,” she said, a smile growing on her face.

“Yeah,” Adam snorted, rolling his eyes, “Look, I pretty much suck at this talking to girls thing… obviously…” he said motioning between them, “but if you could just write something down on a napkin it would help me out,”

The girl looked back to Adam and smiled.

“I’ve got brothers too,” she said, grabbing a napkin off the counter.

She leaned over behind the counter to grab a pen and Adam had to glance, look away, glance, look away at the unintentional display in front of him. She uncapped the pen between her teeth; searing another mental image in Adam’s mind he didn’t want, and leaned down to write on the napkin.

“I’m not giving you my real number,” she said honestly as she wrote, “I don’t even know your name… but… me and my friends usually come here after school on Fridays so maybe I’ll see you again,”

She folded the napkin in half and handed it out to him. Adam reached to grab it, but she pulled back a little, making him look at her.

“What is your name?” she questioned coyly.

“Adam,” he said quickly, then suddenly remembered Dean’s advice to ‘play’ and he grinned back at her, “And what can I call you? Other than ‘cute restaurant girl’ I mean,”

“Cute huh?” she countered with a smile.

“Yeah…maybe,” he retorted still grinning at her.

“Miss, your order…” the cashier said, coming between them and handing the girl a white plastic bag filled with to-go containers.

“Thanks,” she replied to the cashier, grabbing the bag.

“I gotta run,” she said, taking a step away from the counter and Adam, “but maybe I’ll see you on Friday huh? And it’s Stephanie by the way.”

“Uh… yeah… cool.” Adam said, trying his quiet his internal cheer of success, “Oh and thanks for this,” he said gesturing to the napkin.

Stephanie, the cute restaurant girl, just smiled back at him and nodded, turning and walking out of the restaurant, probably feeling Adam’s eyes on her the whole way out the door.

Adam stood still for a moment, a little lightheaded and dazed from the whole exchange, trying to gather himself before he went back to the table and what he knew would be the taunts and teases of his brothers.

Walking back toward them, Adam couldn’t help but wave the little napkin with the fake phone number on it, a clear indicator to his brothers of his success.

“Dude!” Dean said sitting up proudly and welcoming him back with open arms, “You did it!”

“And you didn’t barf all over her or anything,” Sam teased as he slid over in the booth, letting Adam sit down.

“Yeah I know...” Adam said, still feeling a little stunned at how well the whole thing had gone. It was definitely his most successful exchange with a girl since… well… well ever.

“Very nice kid,” Dean said appreciatively, “You gonna call her? Maybe we could make it a double date with hot Heather here,” he offered wagging his eyebrows expressively toward the kitchen.

“Uh… I don’t know…” Adam said, once again feeling flustered, “She uh... she said maybe I could meet her here on Friday,”

“Ah shit!” Dean said, excitedly clapping a hand on the table, “Kid’s already got a date!”

Adam felt blood rush to his cheeks in a weird mix of embarrassment and pride.

“All right Sammy, we just gotta get you hooked up now,” Dean teased.

“I can get my own hook up, thank you very much.” Sam retorted playfully.

“Ok yeah?” Dean asked suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Sam said staring down his brother, “Meeting her to study after school tomorrow,”

“Study? Sounds lame.” Adam said.

“Oh kid, you don’t even know,” Dean goaded, “Nice Sam. But remember: No glove, no love.”

“Gross Dean.” Sam said rolling his eyes and turning back to his newspaper.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he said, grinning and again leaning back comfortably in the restaurant booth seat, proudly surveying his brothers, “Everything’s coming up Winchester. Am I right boys?”

Adam snorted in laughter and Sam just rolled his eyes. Dean was always in his best mood when he thought he might get laid.


	30. Tell Them

 

_Timeline: This story takes place in June of 2001 when Adam is 13 and Sam has just turned 18 and graduated from high school. He's been accepted to Stanford, but only Adam knows of his intentions._

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

  
Adam stood up and leaned against the wobbly motel room table, peering out the window, watching as the taillights of Dad's truck and Dean's Impala faded from sight as they drove away.

Again.

"Man, I wish they'd have let me go on this one," he sighed, sitting down heavily in the tiny chair beside the table, "I could really kick some evil ghost ass about now."

From behind him Adam heard his remaining brother scoff and felt, rather than saw, the eye roll that accompanied the sound.

"What?" Adam asked, annoyed.

"Nothing," Sam replied, not glancing up from the book he was reading, comfortably sprawled out on his chosen motel bed.

"No. What?" Adam asked again, both irritated and curious about his brother was getting at.

"Nothing," Sam said again sardonically, still focused on his book.

"Just cause you have a vendetta against hunting and helping people doesn't mean I do, Sam," Adam huffed in aggravation.

That got Sam to look up, "You wanna start this again?" he asked seriously, staring Adam down with a look that was all John Winchester.

"Not really…" Adam conceded truthfully, "And anyway you started it…"

Sam gave him a sneer and another eye roll in response and turned back to his book.

The past four months had seen the two brothers doing the same song and dance anytime they were left alone: the seemingly endless discussion of why hunting was good, why hunting was bad, why Adam should give it up, why Adam would never give it up.

Sam was convinced that he could show Adam the other side, his side: the side where a normal life could be lived in peace and quiet. Where Adam could fulfill his mother's dream of being a doctor. Where Adam could save lives while keeping his own safe and sound.

Adam was convinced that Sam didn't understand; that Sam could never understand why he wanted to…no…needed to hunt. Sam would never see why Adam would willingly trade in his mother's plans for a chance to hunt down the evil things that took her from him.

In the end, neither would concede the point so they eventually stopped talking about it.  
What they hadn't stopped talking about was Sam's acceptance to Stanford, which only by dumb luck did Adam even know about. Adam was sure that if he hadn't overheard Mr. Gregory congratulating Sam on his acceptance, Adam would have been just as in the dark about the good news as Sam insisted on keeping everyone else.

Sam's absolute determination to keep his college acceptance a secret from Dad and Dean completely baffled Adam. Adam figured that Dean would be over the moon with pride for his brother. Dean had witnessed the years of effort that Sam put into all his academics, working hard to keep up his outstanding grades despite changing schools over and over during the school year. Adam was learning first hand just how freaking hard that could be. Adam knew that he wasn't stupid, but it was really hard to keep jumping around in his classes. At one school he'd read Hamlet, at the next they'd just be starting the play, and at the next school, they'd be teaching some completely different Shakespearean crap. And math was even worse. Adam was lucky to even get Cs on tests, nothing close to the A++ honors that Sam always achieved.  
And Adam knew Dad would be proud too, despite what Sam thought. Dad wanted them to be smart. He was proud of them when they did well. He was short on compliments, yeah, but he always boasted about how quick Dean could think on his feet and how Sam could dig out small details within the research. So surely Dad would be excited for Sam and proud that he'd made the cut for such an exclusive school.

"So…," Adam said, gearing up for the next round of their usual fight.

Sam gave him a slow sidelong stare.

"When are you gonna tell 'em?" Adam asked, prodding.

Sam tilted his head to scowl at his brother.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you here," Adam said, "I know that Stanford letter is burning a hole in your pocket,"

"Shut up," Sam growled seriously.

"You should just tell them already..."

"Just cause you can't keep a secret doesn't mean I'm ready to tell them," Sam shot back, throwing back at Adam the same snarky tone he had used toward his brother just moments ago.

"Ugh," Adam groaned slumping down into the seat, "You're such a pussy."

Sam was off the bed lightening fast, grabbing the back of Adam's chair and tilting it back, throwing Adam off balance so fast he had to grab onto his older brother's forearms to keep from falling completely backward onto the floor.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he rushed out as Sam balanced him precariously.

Sam smiled at him, "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, pulling Adam back up and righting the chair, letting it land with a thud on the linoleum floor.

"And anyway numbnuts," Sam said, walking back to his bed and sitting down on the edge, "The dorms don't open till the last week in August."

"So?" Adam asked, still calming himself from the surprise attack.

"So, I wanna make sure I have a place to live if Dad flips out when I tell him I'm leaving,"

"He's not gonna flip out Sam," Adam said, making Sam scoff and look away, "Really. I mean why would he? It's just college."

"Not to Dad it's not Adam," Sam said shaking his head.

"Come on Sam, you don't really believe that, do you?"

Sam wished he didn't really believe it, wished he wasn't planning contingencies for what might happen when he finally grew the balls to tell his Dad his plans. He'd been thinking about it for months, ever since he'd gotten that nearly perfect score on his SATs, since he got that acceptance letter to the school he'd dreamed about. Every day he thought about what he might say, how he might tell Dad what he hoped to do and every day he pictured all the ways it could go wrong.

In his weaker moments, Sam also imagined all the ways the conversation could go right. Even with logic reminding him of the odds, he couldn't help but dream of the hug and smile that he wanted to see on his father's face when he told Dad that he'd gotten a full ride to Stanford. Although he'd never admit it, and was embarrassed when he realized it, Sam still desperately wanted his father's approval. He craved the nod and soft eyes that Dad gave Dean when his brother followed orders to the letter or nailed some crack shot against a monster.

Sam had learned a long time ago that no matter how obedient he was to his father's orders he'd never get the same reaction. Sam was never fast enough, never strong enough; never brave enough to earn the envying respect that Dean had somehow gained long before Sam was aware of it.

So Sam had set about making himself different from his family. He decided if he couldn't be the strongest, he'd be the smartest. He'd always liked reading and learning and Dean had been unintentionally pestering him about getting good grades since he was little (Dean was always far more concerned with Sam's schoolwork than he was with his own). Sam had hoped that becoming the 'smart one' would have been the way to gain his father's respect, but it had only earned him more work and more wrath when the answers didn't come fast enough for Dad's liking. But all that reading opened Sam's eyes to the world, a world that was more than just run down motel room and evil monsters. He read everything he could get his hands on, every fiction novel, every biography, poem, history book, anything. He learned about people who had overcome, people who struggled, people who lived and died and changed the world. He read medical books about trauma and mental health. He learned to examine his family and see the behaviors that were destroying them. He read books about the economy and politics. He read scientific journal essays and memoirs of thieves, spies, and scholars. Everything he read he filed away in his mind, ready to be called upon, ready to be used. Because if there was one thing he'd learned from his miserable upbringing, it was to always be ready, and Sam Winchester was gonna be ready.

"Well…Dean's gonna be proud of you," Adam said confidently, abruptly pulling Sam from his thoughts.

Sam nodded in agreement, but couldn't bring himself to look his brother in the eye.  
Dean would be proud. Dean was always proud of Sam. Dean might not have understood what the 1580 on the SATs meant for Sam, but he'd have clapped him on the back and given his brother an enthusiastic "hell yeah!"

But Dean had also been brainwashed by Dad. He'd been taught to think that the world was an evil, dangerous, deadly place and the only hope of improving it lay with the Winchester's endless self-sacrifice. Dean didn't know the things Sam knew, hadn't taken the time to examine the things that Dad droned on and on about. Dean's primary source of information about the world outside hunting came from the endless hours he spent in front of the television. And in Dean's mind none of that stuff was real, not like the things Sam read in his books.

If Sam lived in fear of his father's reaction to his college declaration, the thought Dean's response brought him abject terror. Dean followed Dad's orders without question. For Dean, Dad always knew best in all things and always made the right call. If Dad were to flip out and cut Sam off from the family, Dean would think he had no choice but to go alone. Family was the most important thing in the world to Dean and if Sam's selfish act caused Dean's family to break apart, Dean might never forgive him.

The possibility of Dean hating him made Sam's blood run cold.

Years ago, when he had first decided that he'd take the chance and try to go to college he tried to make peace with the idea that his family would abandon him. Even at 14, he understood that his father didn't respect the idea of a higher education and that hunting was all he saw for his children. Sam had worked hard to push the thought of the loss out of his mind as he studied for the SATs, as he filled out applications and wrote the required essays. But now that the possibility of college was a looming actuality, he found himself faltering.

He'd thought about little else since Bobby had called with his acceptance letter. The minute he found out his mind had offered up all the different possibilities of his future. He ran a mental marathon trying to work out all the potential options: if he should go, if he should stay, could he hunt on weekends, could both his brothers come with him, or maybe just Adam, or maybe Dean would want to go to a vocational school near Stanford, or maybe Sam could go to school and hunt again when he graduated, or maybe he could hunt while in school. He exhausted himself each and every time he started to think of it.

"Hey," Adam said, drawing Sam out of his brooding thoughts, "You know I'm proud of you right? I mean…I don't know much about college but I'm pretty sure Stanford is one of the big ones…Ivy League or something,"

Sam smiled at his younger brother, "Not Ivy League, but thanks."

"Really though," Adam continued, "I think its awesome. I've seen Animal House and Revenge of the Nerds. I think college looks awesome."

Sam laughed, "I don't think Stanford is gonna be like that," he chuckled.

"Are you sure? Cause then I know Dean would be excited for you. He'd probably go too," Adam said with a smirk.

Sam smiled but didn't respond.

"You should tell him, Sam," Adam said somberly, becoming serious again.

"I'm not gonna tell them, Adam," Sam said earnestly, "And you better not either,"

Adam rolled his eyes in a perfect imitation of his brother, "Jeez, I've kept the secret this long Sam, give me a little credit,"

"Yeah…well…thanks," Sam said begrudgingly, running his hand through his hair in a self-soothing motion, "Sorry to put that on you,"

Adam shrugged, "It's fine. So two more months then, huh?"

Sam took a deep breath and nodded, "Yeah."

"Well no matter what Dad and Dean think, or if they freak out or not, I don't care. It's just stupid college,"

Sam huffed out a short laugh, "Stupid college? So much for Ivy League..."

"Yeah well," Adam said rolling his eyes.

"What about you?" Sam asked suddenly, studying his little brother.

"What about me?" Adam asked, confused.

"You said you were gonna run away when I left…"

"Oh yeah…that…" Adam replied quietly.

Adam wasn't about to admit that he'd overreacted when he found out about Sam's acceptance to Stanford. He'd run away from his brothers that day and it was only Sam's gentle prodding and promises that got him to come back to the motel.

"Well…" Adam started with a sigh, "I still kinda want to. I mean…I just don't wanna hang around and be a dead weight for Dean. I know he wants to hunt and I don't wanna be here holding him back. That's just not fair,"

Sam listened carefully, nodding.

"And I know you said I could try going to Bobby's and that he'd probably let me stay there and finish school,"

"I know he would Adam," Sam supplied.

"Yeah, well…would Dad though?" Adam asked.

Sam sighed deeply but didn't respond.

"Yeah…." Adam said, understanding his brother's unspoken response, turning to stare out the window, "And if everything really does go as bad as you think it's going to when you finally do tell them…you big chicken," he said, glancing back at Sam with a grin, "…then me running away would be a really bad idea. Dad would find me just to kill me,"

Sam chuckled a little despite himself, "Yeah, he probably would. If Dean didn't get to you first."  
"Fucking true," Adam said, nodding emphatically.

They were both quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts of the future until Adam broke the silence.

"So you'll still, like, keep in touch right?" Adam asked suddenly, wondering if Sam's doom and gloom view of his leaving for school could really destroy their relationship.

"I'd like to," Sam offered tentatively, "I'm afraid leaving is gonna burn some bridges, but yeah,"  
"You'll keep your phone?" Adam asked.

"I'll try. It's under one of Dad's fake card though so I don't know how long that will last, but the school gives every student an email address and I'll still have my old email account too,"

"Oh ok," Adam said, trying to picture only talking to his brother through email.

"And I'll eventually get a new phone and I'll give you that number,"

"Ok…" Adam said, "You've really thought all this out, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I like to be prepared," Sam admitted.

"So you've got a plan on how to get to school if Dad doesn't drop you off? How you'll get money and stuff?" Adam asked, watching his brother's walls come up as he asked the question.

"Yeah I've got plans," Sam confirmed curtly.

Adam knew his brother wouldn't elaborate on his very guarded answer. It didn't matter that Adam had been keeping his brother's most important secret for months, Adam had learned that Sam, just like their father, had to have his secrets to feel safe and in control.

"It'll be fun to come visit you at school," Adam said, trying to change the subject and brighten Sam's mood, "I bet there are tons of cute girls in California,"

A half-hearted chuckle and a wry smile from his brother and Adam knew he'd said the right thing.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a smile, "It'll be cool,"

"I wonder if you'll have a roommate in the dorm," Adam continued, trying to visualize what college might be like for Sam, trying to remember all things he'd seen on tv about college life, "Or what if you get your own room? Man! That would be awesome,"

Sam looked away and nodded and Adam could see his brother's mind spinning.

"Yeah, that'd be crazy. I never…" he started, then stopped, "I never really had my own space. I wouldn't even know what to do," he said quietly, staring off distantly.

Adam was quiet across the room watching his brother. It had never really occurred to him that Sam had never had his own room or a space that was just his. But then again, since coming to live with the Winchesters, Adam had never been given his own room either. It was a tough adjustment, in the beginning, coming from being an only child with his own bedroom and own ways of doing things, having to learn how to survive being surrounded by family 24/7.

"You never had your own room?" Adam asked curiously. "Like never?"

Sam shrugged indifferently, "There have been a few times," he explained, "Once when Dad rented a house there were three rooms and I got to have one. I think I was like 8 maybe? But no, not really, even when we stayed in long-term rentals or whatever, it was usually only two rooms cause it was cheaper, so me and Dean always shared. And we always share at Pastor Jim's and Bobby's too,"

Adam noticed the uneasy look growing on his brother's face. Could his kick-ass, grown-ass, badass hunter of a brother really be getting scared of being alone? No way.

But it did sorta make sense. Sam had said before that he'd never really had a home. That Dad had fled their family home after the fire happened when Sam was a baby and Sam had grown up on the road, bouncing from motel room to motel room, with brief stays with Dad's few trustworthy friends. Adam tried to imagine what that must have been like for Sam, but he couldn't. Adam had grown up in the same house his entire life. He'd had the same room since he was a baby. His mother's room was right across the hall. Sam had none of that. Not a room, not a bed, not even the same blanket. No wonder he wanted to go away to school and find some normal for a little while.

"Well…" Adam said, trying to catch Sam's eye, "As a former only child, let me tell you it's awesome."

The lightness in Adam's tone caused Sam to look up with a weak smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"But," Adam continued, hoping to comfort his brother, "I don't think they let freshman have single rooms. You might even have a bunch of roommates...like when all the Saved by the Bell kids went to college they had this awesome suite, with like a kitchen in the middle and couches and they all lived together. It was so cool,"

"When did you watch that?" Sam asked with a chuckle.

"I don't know," Adam said shaking his head, "Dean was watching it."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh, "Gonna be weird no matter what I'm sure,"  
"Gonna be awesome Sam," Adam said, nodding, "Really awesome."

-/-/-/-/-/


	31. Dine and Dash

 

_Timeline: Adam is 14 years old. Sam left for college about 7 months ago and Adam is still on the road hunting with his father and Dean. February 2002_

\----------------

  
“Come on man! Please!” Adam begged, looking up at the stoic older man standing over him.

“No.”

“Come on! I’ll do some dishes, clean the floors! Whatever! Just don’t call the cops!”

“No,” the man replied, leaning down toward Adam, “I’m sick of little high school shits like you coming in here and stealing from me. My restaurant is not some teenager dare!”

“I don’t even know about that man. I’m serious.” Adam pleaded, getting increasingly nervous.

“Tough luck kid. You picked the wrong place to dine and dash,” the man said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over Adam.

Adam shook his head in defeat and slumped down into the booth he was currently being boxed into by the owner of the deli. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten caught. He’d been ‘dining and dashing’ on and off for weeks now and hadn’t been caught since the very first time. And even then he was able to convince that owner to let him work off the food he’d stolen. But of course this time when he gets caught, the owner is a dickhead with an axe to grind. Typical Winchester luck.

Adam glanced around the diner wondering if he could make a break under the table and out the door before the owner or any of the other staff snagged him when the bells on the front door rang out and a policeman casually walked in.

Shit.

There was no way he was gonna be able to make a break for it now. The grumpy, overweight restaurant owner had him cornered and now the officer had clearly spotted him.

“Problem here Don?” the cop asked the owner as he approached them.

“Damn right. I’m sick of these kids,” the owner said angrily, glaring down at Adam.

Adam didn’t respond, even though he wanted to roll his eyes.

“You sure you want me to take him in?” the cop asked, glancing at Adam.

“I wanna make an example of this kid, Greg. I’m losing too much money on these little shits,”

Adam watched the conversation between the two carefully; trying to remember all the tips and tricks that Dad had taught him about reading a situation. He knew he needed to decide soon how he was going to play his cards with the cop, decide which persona could get him the most sympathy or hell, even apathy, and get him out of this mess.

The cop looked both bored and aggravated with the restaurant owner and the situation, but he sighed and adjusted his gear belt and motioned for Adam to get up.

“Alright. Come on kid. We’ll call your parents from down at the station.”

Adam kept his face neutral, knowing that the “down at the station” line was probably meant to scare him. He slid out of the booth and walked toward the door with the officer close behind him, never looking back at the grouchy, old owner who was probably smiling at the sight of the bad seed getting his due.

The officer opened the restaurant door and put a firm hand on Adam’s shoulder, a gentle indication Adam knew, that he better not try to run.

“I don’t need to cuff you do I?” the cop asked, tightening the hold he had on Adam’s shoulder slightly.

“No sir,” Adam replied.

Adam wasn’t gonna run. To get free of the cop he’d have to hurt the guy and that would only draw more attention and make everything worse. So Adam let himself be shuffled toward the cop car parked out front and didn’t resist as the door was opened and he was pushed into the backseat.

Adam sighed and slumped down deep into the smooth leather seat as the cop shut the door with a heavy thud.

I’m totally screwed, he thought.

Adam watched as the cop went back around to the front of the car, talking with another restaurant employee who’d come outside. He looked around the interior of the car, wondering if there was any way he could get out without anyone noticing. There were no handles on the interior doors and only steel mesh between the back and front seats. Short of kicking out the rear window glass, Adam couldn’t think of any way to get out.

Fuck.

The officer finished up his conversation and got into the car, glancing up into the rearview mirror before staring the engine.

“Bet you wish you hadn’t taken that dare now, huh kid?” he asked to the mirror.

Adam didn’t answer, but kept his face calm and neutral. Dad always said that keeping calm in a situation meant keeping control and damn if Adam was loose control this early in the game.

“You think your parents are gonna like picking you up from the police station, son?” the officer asked, as he backed out of the parking spot and turned toward the main road.

Adam kept quiet, carefully watching the officer and trying to pick out anything about the guy he could use to help his case.

“What’s your name kid?” the cop asked, glancing into the mirror again.

Adam hesitated a moment, unsure if he would be giving away any edge by speaking and then again wondering if he should give his real name. He was fairly sure that the ‘rebel teenager’ bit wouldn’t go over well with this guy, so maybe ‘stupid, scared new kid’ was the way to go?

“Adam.” He answered finally, taking note of the man’s accepting nod.

Good. The nod was a good sign. Talking was the way to go with this guy. Maybe he had kids of his own, or maybe he remembered being a dumb kid making bad decisions, either way Adam could benefit.

“And you’re what…13?” the officer asked, glancing down at the computer beside him as a call came across the radio in the car.

Adam unconsciously recognized the EMS response call but he didn’t know the code the dispatcher had called out. Sam had made sure he knew all the 10 codes that most police stations used, but the individual codes for incidents varied by city and county.

“14.” Adam corrected, keeping one ear on the radio out of habit.

The officer nodded, “You picked a bad day to try out Ol’ Don. He’s been losing a lot of money lately and he thinks its ‘cause of you kids stealing from him,”

Adam just shook his head and looked out the window.

“You know eating food and not paying for it is a crime, right kid? Same as stealing.” the cop asked and Adam could feel the man’s eyes on him.

Even if you haven’t eaten in days?

“Yeah I know.” Adam said quietly to the window, as he watched the winter scenery pass.

“What’d you think your friends are gonna say about this? Think real friends would put you up to something like this?” the officer asked.

Adam had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Ok, this guy’s M.O was clear: help the troubled teen. Well, troubled teen Adam could play, easily. Maybe he could even make it ‘troubled teen with a heart of gold’, a true afterschool special moment. Dean would be so proud.

“Guess not,” Adam replied quietly.

“This is a tough lesson to learn, son,” the officer said, glancing up into the rearview mirror meaningfully, “You have to be careful about who your friends are,”

“We just moved here,” Adam said pitifully, putting his cards into play, “I was just trying to fit in,”

The officer looked up into the mirror again and Adam could see his pathetic words land right where he intended him.

“Look, kid,” the cop said, as they pulled into the police station, “I’ll see if I can get Don to drop the charges,”

The cop put the car into park and turned a little in his seat so that he was partially facing Adam, “But look, what you did was wrong. You stole from him and you’re gonna have to make it up somehow, either by paying for your meal or working it off,”

“I know,” Adam said, biting hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his expression serious even though he wanted to grin at his ploy working so nicely, “I’ll work it off if he wants me to,”

“Alright,” he said, “Let’s go call your parents,”

Whatever smile Adam might have been trying to hide completely evaporated at the words. He’d kinda forgotten that part.

As the back door was opened and Adam slide out, he glanced around, wondering if now was his golden moment to make a run for it. Of course, as typical of the rest of his luck on this day, there were three other uniformed officers standing in the parking lot chatting, spaced just far enough away that they’d easily be able to tackle Adam the moment he tried to run.

The officer’s strong hand was heavy on Adam’s shoulder again as he was lead into the small town police station. It was vague and non-descript just like every other station he’d been into when working cases with Dad, the only difference being the city name on the door.

He was lead to a plain brown metal chair, positioned at the end of a similarly plain brown metal desk. Adam sat down heavily in the chair and resigned himself to being stuck. There was no way he could get out of the station without creating a huge commotion and ruining the thin trust he’d developed with the officer who picked him up, trust he wanted to keep in case he needed it.

The officer sat down behind the desk and grabbed large beige desk phone from the opposite corner, pushing it towards Adam.

“Ok, let’s get this over with,” he said, picking up the receiver, “Dial 1 to get out,”

Adam took the receiver from the cop and stared down at the numbers on the phone.

Who was he gonna call?

Dad? Hell no. Not only did he not want John Winchester picking him up from a police station, Dad had left on a hunt two days ago, which meant he was likely right in the thick of ganking some hell beast. Dad almost never answered his phone when he was hunting and half the time he didn’t have cell reception anyway. So no. Not Dad.

Dean?

Dean should have been his first thought. Normally would have been. But Dean was the whole reason he was in this mess to begin with.

Something had broken within his brother when Sam left, despite the fact that Adam was pretty sure Dean had seen it coming. Sam had been gone for months now and every few weeks something would snap within Dean and he’d crawl into the bottle for a few days just like Dad did.

Dean never said anything. He’d never admit it. But there wasn’t any other reason that Adam could figure out for Dean to be such a mess… so… not Dean. He could go weeks and be normal big brother Dean, doing all the regular things he always did: hunting, drinking, chasing women, but then something would happen (Adam never knew exactly what) and a switch would flip and Dean would be destroyed. He’d suddenly be quieter, brooding and angry. Then would come the nights where he didn’t come home or if he did show up at the motel room it was a 6am as Adam was getting ready for school and he was still shit faced drunk and stinking of cheap perfume. Then would come the all day drinking binges where he didn’t leave the motel room. He’d stock up on six packs and work his way through them while watching daytime soap operas and yelling at the afternoon courtroom dramas. After a few days of that he’d remember he still had a younger brother and feel guilty. He’d hustle some extra pool games and take Adam out to the grocery store or take him out to the movies or to play mini golf. It was a cycle they’d been through several times already since Sam left in July.

This past week had been one of those weeks. Dean was deep in the bottle, hiding from something or working through something, Adam wasn’t sure. But either way, there hadn’t been any food around. Dean just wasn’t in his right mind to go and get any. It wasn’t a huge deal though and Adam tried not to begrudge his brother something that seemed to have destroyed him on a cellular level. So mostly Adam just took care of himself. He wasn’t a little kid, and hell even when he had been a little kid he was able to look out for himself. His mom was amazing, but she worked long hours, sometimes night or weekends. And while she always made sure there was food in the house Adam learned to cook and feed himself when he needed to. As it was now, Adam had figured out that he could skip dinners during the weeks of Dean’s binges and as long as he could make it to school early enough he could join in the free breakfast program the county had going. Add that to skimming dollars from Dean and Dad’s wallets when they were around and Adam had his weekend meals pretty much set too. Except this week Dad was gone and every time Adam had been able to sneak into Dean’s pockets to look for cash all he’d found was condom wrappers and bottle lids.

So he’d been forced to decide how he was gonna feed himself. Options at the motel were limited. Basically ice chips from the hallway icemaker and possibly a coke from the machine if he could find some change or break the lock on it. That wasn’t gonna be enough to make it until Monday morning. By the time Saturday evening rolled around Adam was trying to decide where he was gonna steal from. There was a market a few blocks away that was small and looked promising, but Dean had said stealing, even things like bread and peanut butter, from places like that would get you caught easy. So Adam had turned to the Deli. He’d overheard the kids at school talking about it and figured it must be an easy spot, since all those idiots could steal food there and they clearly hadn’t been trained they way he had. Clearly, he was wrong.

“Kid?” the officer said, shaking Adam from his thoughts, “Go on. Make the call.”

Adam sighed. Dean was his best hope at this point. Sam was gone. Dad was MIA. Adam just had to hope that Dean wasn’t passed out yet, or even better that he was sober enough to drive and come get him.

Adam dialed the number to Dean’s current burner cell, vaguely impressed with himself for remembering the number seeing as Dad had them switching up phones every few weeks.

He pressed the receiver to his ear and listened as it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Finally Adam heard a click and almost opened his mouth to speak before he was cut off by Dean’s recorded voicemail message.

“It’s Dean. Leave it at the beep.”

Adam cleared his throat roughly, “Dean, it’s me. I’m ok. I’m at the police station. Can you come get me? It’s on 12th.”

Adam hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he should say before hanging up. He glanced up at the officer watching him and decided he’d said enough and put the phone back down in its cradle.

“Dean?” the cop asked skeptically, “You call your old man by his first name?”

“No… sir,” Adam said, “My brother. My dad is out of town, out of cell range. He wouldn’t get the call,”

The officer eyed him suspiciously; clearly assuming that Adam was trying to pull something with his phone call to hide his transgression from his father.

“Well he’d get the message when he gets back in range right? Why don’t we call him just to let him know what’s going on. Here, you dial and I’ll talk,” he said, picking up the phone again and motioning for Adam to start dialing.

Although hiding this whole incident from Dad hadn’t yet occurred to him, Adam would have been happy if his father never found out. And with enough guilt and blackmail to Dean he might have been able cover up the whole mess.

“Dial kid,” the cop said.

Adam frowned, but dialed the number to Dad’s current phone.

He could hear Dad’s message immediately click over without ringing, confirming Adam’s suspicions that Dad was out of cell range hunting whatever it was.

“Sir, this is Officer Reynolds down at the Greenbrier Police Station. I’ve got your boy Adam here with me. He’s just fine, but he tried to do a little dine and dash over at the diner. He’s called his brother to come and get him, but if you are able to stop by the station I’d appreciate it.”

The officer left the phone number and address of the station before putting down the phone and looking over to Adam.

“You wanna try your brother again?”

Adam shrugged. He could call Dean all day. There was no guarantee he’d pick up. He was either down in the bottle or up some girl’s skirt and either way he wouldn’t answer the phone.

“Alright, well we’ll give him a little while. Come on,” the cop said standing up, “I’ve got work to do, so I can’t be babysitting you all night.”

He gently grabbed Adam’s upper arm and Adam let himself be lifted from the seat and led away from the officer’s desk.

They walked from what Adam knew was the police officers’ bullpen down a quiet, empty back hallway. At the end of the hall there was a heavy door with a glass square insert and behind it Adam could see a row of cells. His stomach clenched at the sight and he unconsciously pulled away from the officer.

“Now don’t worry,” he said tightening his hold, “You’re the only one here right now and it’s just until your brother or your dad comes to get you,”

Adam stiffened as the officer opened the door and shuffled him inside. He freaking hated being locked up. Hated being tied up. Caged. Any kind of restraint made Adam’s whole body panic.

He took in several small shaky breaths as the officer led him to the first cell. Adam was surprised to see that it looked just like on television: thick grey metal bars, a tiny metal bench on one wall and a shiny metal toilet in the corner.

“In you go,” the cop said, opening the door and ushering him inside.

Adam bit down on the wave of panic that rose again in his chest and closed his eyes momentarily, trying to get a hold of himself.

“You just wait here. I’ll be back in a while and we can call your brother again,” the cop said, shutting the bars behind him with a loud clank that echoed in the room. Adam didn’t turn around as he listened to the man’s keys jingle and the lock on the cell was turned and clicked home.

Reminding himself to breathe, Adam looked around the small cell and glanced back to watch the cop turn and leave. When the heavy door with the glass was closed Adam realized he was well and truly alone. Alone and locked in a cage.

Adam could feel the familiar feeling of panic rushing at him like the rising tide and he took a moment to try to calm down. The officer hadn’t searched him so he still had his lock pick set and his silver knife. If he had to, Adam knew he could pick the lock and fight his way out of the police station. But that wasn’t the smart move. He knew that. Right now he was a stupid kid being held until his daddy could come get him. If Adam were to pick the lock and slice and dice his way out of the station, he’d be all over the news as a crazed murdering teen.

No. He would sit. He would wait. Dean would eventually come for him.

Adam walked over to the small metal bench that was pushed up against the cement wall of the cell. He’d never been to jail before. Never been arrested. He probably should get used to it. He and Dad had talked about the possibility before. Dean had been arrested last year after being spotted breaking into a house when he was looking for a cursed object. Dad took the opportunity to educated Adam on the best way to deal with small town beat cops and how to play the system to his advantage. Dean was able to walk away from the whole mess after he convinced the cops he was rushing a local frat and the breaking and entering was part of a pledge dare. Dad never said anything, but Adam could tell that he was proud that Dean was able to get himself out of the mess without Dad having to go in and pull the FBI card, which is what he’d told Adam was the next step. Dad didn’t like having to use his fake FBI credentials to do anything except get information on a case. He always said it wasn’t worth the risk.

Adam sat down heavily on the bench and leaned against the wall, wondering just how long he might be stuck here. It was Saturday night at 7pm. Dean was probably already at a bar, already drunk and already eyeing the local merchandise. The chance that he’d check his phone and be able to come get his brother anytime soon was thin. Adam figured it would be Sunday at lunch before Dean sobered up enough to realize Adam hadn’t been around. Jesus, Dad would kill Dean if he knew about any of this.

Not only would John Winchester be royally pissed at having to pick up his youngest from a police station, but Adam knew he’d be beyond livid at Dean’s current state. Dad always talked about how important it was to be aware of your surroundings at all times, how critical it was that you keep your head clear so that nothing ever got the jump on you. Adam thought Dad’s whole lecture was pretty hypocritical, given how often Dad drank himself to sleep. But since he’d learned the hard way that bringing up Dad’s drinking ended with him not being able to sit for days, Adam kept his mouth shut. About Dad’s drinking and about Dean’s.

Adam sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. He felt like such a dumbass for getting caught. Dad had taught him better than his, Dean too. Being too hungry made him distracted. He vowed that next time he picked a place to dine and dash he wouldn’t let himself get so hungry that he made mistakes. He’d have to be more careful about the whole situation if he was going to be able to keep it hidden. The last thing he wanted was for Dad to find out about Dean’s drinking binges. Dad never minded letting Dean or even Sam have a beer after a hunt. Hell, Dean was 22 now and went out to bars regularly, on his own and with Dad. Although it had never been said, Adam instinctively knew that Dad wouldn’t stand for the blackout- binge drinking that Dean was doing this week. Not only was it dangerous as a hunter, but as a father there was no way he’d let it slide, no matter how torn up Dean was or how often Dad dealt with his own emotions in the same way.

Adam hoped Dean would get past whatever this was soon. He missed his brother. He missed both of them actually. But it was harder to sit by and watch Dean transform from the responsible, kind, older brother he’d come to know back into the standoffish, sullen asshole he’d first met when he was 12.

In the months since Sam left Adam and Dean had fought more often then they ever had before. They’d never realized just how important Sam’s presence was to their relationship. Sam had told Adam before he left that he thought Adam and Dean were more alike than not, and that fact seemed to be kicking them both in the ass. Without Sam to mediate, the two most reckless Winchesters would argue until their fights became physical and wouldn’t quit throwing punches until they saw blood. Unfortunately for Adam, he was still 8 years younger than Dean so it was usually his blood that was splattered across the motel rug.

Of course, most of the time Dean was still Dean so he felt pretty bad about roughing Adam up, even if he ‘deserved it’ (which he totally did not). So after a brawl there would be a begrudging peace between them for a while. They tried to keep their fights from Dad, each knowing that while Dad supported sparring and practice fighting, he sure as hell drew the line at his boys beating the snot out of each other.

Adam stood up from the cold metal bench and started to wander around the cell, looking around at the other tan cement walls to see if there was a clock anywhere.

Of course there wasn’t.

At least he wasn’t hungry anymore, so that particular problem had been solved. He definitely had some bigger ones now though.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Adam couldn’t tell if time without a clocked moved slower or faster, but he was betting on slower, since it seemed to be forever before the cop who had picked him up from the restaurant came back.

“How you doing kid?” he asked, his keys jingling as he unlocked the cell door.

“Ok.” Adam said, having jumped up from the bench the moment the officer was visible.

“Let’s go try your brother again huh?” he said, returning his heavy hand to Adam’s shoulder.

Adam was led back to the bullpen and again to the plain brown desk and chair. Again he was given the ugly beige phone and slowly dialed Dean’s cell number.

And again it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And with each ring Adam’s heart sank a little more.

Come on Dean, he thought. Come on!

Adam needed Dean now. Actually really needed him. So many times Dean was there when Adam didn’t even want him: hovering after school, shadowing him too close during a hunt. Why couldn’t he be around now?

Adam didn’t leave a message this time, hanging up the phone and looking up to the officer who was leaning against the desk.

“He didn’t pick up.” Adam said, trying to conceal the hurt and annoyance in his voice.

“Hmm…” the cop said, looking down at his watch. “It’s almost shift change. I was really hoping to have you out of here before now.”

Adam looked over to the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly 10:30 at night. Yeah, there was no way he was gonna get in touch with his brother now.

The officer sighed, causing Adam to look back at him. Adam watched the cop’s face as he looked around the bullpen, contemplating something.

“I guess we don’t have a choice but to keep you here until someone shows,” he said, looking down at Adam sadly.

Adam could feel the officer’s opinion of him shifting. He was no longer ‘normal-teen-with-bad-friends’, but was becoming ‘troubled-teen-with-no-one-to-look-out-for-him’. Great. Adam would have liked to keep the ‘dumb-normal-kid’ shtick going for as long as possible, because as easy as it was for him to play ‘troubled-teen’ the role hit too close to home and he really didn’t wanna have to try to cry in front of this guy.

“Here,” the cop said, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, “Write down your brother and your Dad’s number and I’ll have Charlie keep calling. He’s on the overnights, so he’ll come check on you too,”

“You mean I’ve gotta go back to that cell?” Adam asked, unable to hide the despair in his voice.

“Sorry kid, we don’t really have anywhere else,”

“You could just let me go,” Adam said, trying his hand, “I’ve learned my lesson. Really.”

The officer looked down at him, tilting his head to study Adam. “Sorry kid, but I get the feeling you are on the edge of a bad road. So if spending the night here and talking to your father will keep you off it, that’s what we are gonna do,”

“It was one mistake sir. One. You can let me go. I promise I will pay the owner and work for him however much he wants. I won’t go down a bad road,” Adam tried, looking up at the man with the most innocent, pleading eyes he could manage.

“This is for you own good son,” the cop said, taking Adam’s arm and lifting him from the seat.

‘For your own good, son’, jeez…that sounds familiar, Adam thought with a scowl.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

 

“Morning Charlie!” Officer Reynolds said brightly as he walked into the station for his Sunday shift. He always looked forward to this shift. It wasn’t his normal gig, but since Jerry had been out recovering from that heart attack, he’d stepped up to help cover. Sunday was always a pretty peaceful day around the city, not many people causing trouble, which made it an enjoyable and easy eight hours on the job.

“What time did that kid finally get outta here?” he asked, grabbing a stack of papers from his work mailbox and coming to stand near Charlie’s desk.

“He’s still here,” the man replied.

“You’re shitting me.” Reynolds said, “Really?”

“Yeah, took him some donuts earlier,” Charlie said, nodding back toward the cells.

“Damn it.” Reynolds replied, putting down his papers.

Seemed like his suspicions were correct: this kid wasn’t just ‘dining and dashing’ for fun. This kid was hungry. Reynolds had hoped that the kid’s story about being new to town and taking on the dare was true, but really one look at him and he knew it wasn’t. Second hand clothes, barely clean, smelling like motor oil and hanging off him two sizes too big. Pale complexion, thin freckled skin and scars peeking out from behind his too long sleeves, Reynolds wasn’t surprised that no one answered when the kid called.

He walked over to his desk and opened the large file cabinet drawer, leafing through to find the contact information for the weekend operations for Child Protective Services. As much as he hated putting kids into the system, it would mean this kid could get some decent food and maybe be looked after a little bit. He seemed like a nice kid after all.

Grabbing the folder, he took it with him as he walked back to the cells to check on the kid. Peeking through the glass door before he turned the handle, he couldn’t see Adam. Charlie said the kid was still here, right?

Opening the door quickly he strode into the room to examine the cell.

There, tucked up under the bench, wrapped up in a tight ball, with his winter coat over his head was the kid.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Adam pulled the coat from his head and rolled over to face the officer. He’d gotten under the bench to try to get a break from the blinding overhead lighting in hopes of getting a little sleep. Why couldn’t he have gotten arrested in a town that had beds in their cells?

“Charlie says he couldn’t get anyone on the phone,”

“Yeah,” Adam grumbled, rolling out from under the bench and standing up with a groan.

The officer stood outside the cell, a manila folder in his hands looking sadly at Adam.

“So…” he started and Adam felt dread rise in his belly, “We can give it a few more hours, but I’m gonna go ahead and put in a call to Child Protective Services,”

“What?” Adam asked in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Son,” the officer said softly, “You and I both know it wasn’t a dare that sent you into Ol’ Don’s yesterday. But listen, before I make this call, do you have anyone else? Your mom? Is she in the picture?”

“No,” Adam replied softly, looking away from the officer.

“Ok. Well I’ll give them a call then, start the process,”

“You can’t do that,” Adam replied angrily, exhaustion fueling his temper, “It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet!”

The cop stared back at him calmly, “I don’t have to wait 24 hours son, not if it’s in your best interest,”

“It’s not!” Adam yelled furiously, “My dad is working. He’ll be back. My brother is just being a dick! But I’m fine. Seriously. I don’t need you to call them!”

“Son, I think you do,” the officer said, looking over Adam sadly.

“I don’t!” Adam snarled back, glaring at him.

The officer didn’t reply, but stared at him a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the heavy door with the glass.

“I’m fine man!” Adam yelled at the officer’s back as he opened the door and walked out, leaving him alone again.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

How could thing go so epically, monumentally wrong? It was one meal. One lousy meal. And now he was staring down a confrontation with CPS?

Adam kicked at the bars of the cell before turning back and stomping over to the bench, sitting down heavily.

He wasn’t going with CPS that was for damn sure . He hadn’t stayed out of the system this long to get picked up for something so stupid. No. Hell no. Cops would pass him off to some caseworker and Adam would hit the bricks and be gone as fast as he could. He’d figure it out from there, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to some juvy halfway house

As he sat staring at the blank walls of the jail cell, he slowly ran his hand over the lock pick set hidden on the inside of his coat. He didn’t move, afraid of the possibly of cameras in the room, but allowed himself to shift slightly to feel the comforting pressure of his silver knife against his leg.

He was getting out of here. One way or another.

 

/-/-/-/-/-/

Several minutes or hours later (he still wasn’t sure on time without a clock), Adam was still sitting in the cell on the metal bench, finalizing his escape plan. He’d examined the lock on the cell and discovered that he couldn’t pick it from the angle he was at. He’d have to wait until one of the officers came for him. But that was ok. He’d use the trust he’d developed with Officer Reynolds to make sure he was able to walk out of the cell without being cuffed. Once out, Adam figured he’d probably be taken to some small room to be interviewed by CPS. That was how it always happened on tv anyway. All it would take from there was getting alone for enough time to get away. Maybe a bathroom break and he could find a window, or maybe asking for something to drink would give him enough time to sneak off.

Adam was still working through the final details of his plan when the heavy door to the room clicked and he glanced up expecting to see Officer Reynolds.

Even with a quick glance, he immediately recognized the shadow of the man coming through the door and he jumped up off the metal bench.

“Dad!” Adam shouted in shock.

Dad walked slowly into the room. His expression grim but controlled, his heavy steps striking a fear into Adam that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Dad! I…I can explain…” Adam stuttered out, but a slow discouraging nod from his father caused the words to die in his throat.

Officer Reynolds stepped in front of Dad and with a quick jingle of his keys the door to the cell was unlocked and opened.

Adam swallowed uncertainly, happy that he was now most likely free of whole mess with the local pd, but knowing that he was in whole different mess now that Dad was involved.

Adam stepped forward and Dad reached out and gently put a hand on the back of his head.

“You’re ok?” he asked, studying his son.

“Yes sir,” Adam responded quietly with a nod.

Dad nodded in return and looked over to Officer Reynolds.

“I’m sorry for the trouble my son has caused,” he said calmly, surprising Adam with the sincerity of his words. “We’ll stop by the deli today and repay the owner,”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate that,” Officer Reynolds said, adjusting his gear belt restlessly under Dad’s serious gaze.

Dad nodded and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Uh sir?” the officer started nervously.

Adam could never get enough of how grown men cowed in his father’s presence. John Winchester was a force of nature and it was nice to know that Adam wasn’t the only one intimidated by him.

“Sir, you should know I’ve put in a call to CPS,” Officer Reynolds said. “Protocol, you know?”

Adam looked up at his father, awaiting his response, knowing that inside Dad was absolutely furious to find out that Adam had almost let himself be thrown into the system. It was bad enough that the cop knew both their real names and real information, but to include CPS in the situation was a true danger. Adam was still under age and despite Dad’s numerous skills and constant running, there was still a chance that Adam could be taken away from them.

Dad’s poker face was perfect however and none of the internal panic he was probably feeling showed at all.

“I understand officer. You’re just doing your job. I appreciate you looking after my boy for me. I’ll be expecting their call,”

Sure, Adam thought, knowing that they’d all be ditching their phones and hitting the highway tonight, trying to put distance between themselves and the disaster Adam had created.

“Thank you for being understanding about this Sir, we only want what’s best for Adam,” the officer replied, nodding down at Adam.

“Of course,” Dad agreed, “And I apologize again for the trouble he’s caused. Adam?” Dad said, squeezing his shoulder painfully.

Adam knew exactly what was expected of him, “Yes sir, I’m very sorry for the trouble and I appreciate you looking after me. It won’t happen again,”

Officer Reynolds nodded down at him and Adam felt him searching for any reason that Adam shouldn’t be allowed to go with his Dad. Adam knew the whole situation didn’t look great, but Dad had showed up and he looked like a normal father: wearing clean jeans and a flannel shirt under a heavy black coat. He wasn’t covered in blood or bruises like some of the other times when he returned from a hunt.

Dad squeezed his shoulder again as Officer Reynolds turned and they followed him out of the cells and back toward the bullpen of the station.

“Thank you for coming Mr. Winchester,” the officer said, holding out a hand.

Dad nodded and shook the officer’s hand, “Thank you again officer. Come on, son.”

Adam’s stomach was rolling with dread and fear and embarrassment as they walked out of the police station into the cold January weather, Dad’s fingers digging into the shoulder of Adam’s coat.

“I ought belt you right here in the parking lot,” Dad said quietly through clenched teeth as they approached his truck.

Adam swallowed nervously.

Dad led him around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door.

“In.” he said firmly.

Adam obediently climbed into the cab, wishing there was some excuse he could come up with that would calm Dad down and save his ass.

Dad slammed the truck door and Adam watched in the mirror as he walked around to the driver’s side, taking pains to walk slowly and calmly.

As he climbed into the truck and shut to door Adam thought maybe now was a good time to make his case.

“Dad… I...” he started.

“Not a word boy. Not a word,” he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he started the truck with a rumble.

Adam watched his father covertly as they drove down the slushy streets back toward their motel of the week. It was hard to tell just how mad Dad was. He was stone cold sober, so that was a good thing Adam guessed, but he was also doing that thing where he clenched and unclenched his fists as he drove and Adam knew from experience that was a bad sign.

Suddenly Dad pulled off the road, down to a side street and into an empty gravel lot in front of an abandoned barn.

Oh shit.

Dad turned the truck off and Adam chewed his bottom lip as his stomach rolled. Shit, he was seriously in for it.

“Alright,” Dad said, trying to control the anger in his voice, “Let’s hear it.”

Adam’s mouth suddenly went dry and he forgot how to speak. Why did he always freak out like this when he got put on the spot?

“I… uh… I uh…”

“Adam.” Dad said darkly, making it clear that Adam better figure out how to talk again and do it soon.

“Ok, uh… it was...”

Crap. He hadn’t really thought about having to explain this to Dad. What the fuck was he gonna say? All that time sitting in a cell and yet figuring out what to tell Dad never even occurred to him. Dean was right he was a dumbass.

He didn’t wanna tell Dad the truth, that would just get Dean in trouble. As much as Dean probably deserved the kick in the ass, Adam didn’t wanna be the one to throw him under the bus.

Sam would never do that.

“It was a dare,” Adam spit out finally, looking down into the floorboard as the lie tumbled out of his mouth.

Adam hoped his own poker face was as good as his father’s because if Dad were to find out he got arrested and then lied to him about the reason, Adam wouldn’t be able to sit for a month.

“A dare?” Dad asked infuriated, “A fucking dare?”

Adam licked his lips in trepidation and continued to stare at the floor, waiting for the storm of Dad’s rage to blow over.

“Do you know what you just did?” he asked, “You know our rules about keeping a low profile. What the hell did you think you were doing?”  
“Well I didn’t think I’d get caught,” Adam mumbled to the floor.

“No shit,” Dad snapped. “Adam, how could you be so stupid? I know you aren’t this stupid son, so why would you put yourself in that situation? You know what the risks are!”

Adam just shrugged. He didn’t wanna hear Dad lecture him anymore. He just wanted to get on with the punishment and get it over with.

Part of Adam really wanted to tell Dad the truth, to admit that he was just so hungry. Hungry enough that it seemed worth the risk. That he couldn’t think of a better, safer option and that he was past the point of being able to wait for a better choice. The thought of the unfairness of the whole situation made Adam mad, furious even.

“If you’re gonna belt me, can we just get it over with?” Adam sneered, crossing his arms defiantly.

Dad looked briefly taken aback by Adam’s surly attitude, but quickly recovered.

“Yeah we can.” he said threateningly, “I was gonna let you wait until we were back at the motel so we didn’t both freeze our asses off, but since you’ve decided you’re so eager I figure hell, why not here and there?”

Adam breath caught and he looked at his father in shock. Two? Two whippings?

Dad opened his truck door, “Get out,”

Adam watched as Dad slid out of the truck and stood in the open door, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops.

“Now Adam,” he said menacingly.

Adam’s entire body was clenched tightly in dread and he had to force himself to comply with his father’s orders. With weak knees he opened the door and walked around to the back of the truck, where Dad was putting down the tailgate.

“You should know I had to leave the hunt early for this,” he said, letting the tailgate slam down with a heavy thud, “Your mistake isn’t just costing you Adam.”

Oh fuck.

No wonder Dad was so pissed. It was one thing for Adam to be stupid, but it was an entirely different thing for people’s lives to be at risk because of his stupidity.

“Turn around,” Dad said, nodding to the lowered tailgate as he folded over the belt in his hands, “Don’t move,”

Adam felt sobs rising in his chest. Fear, dread, embarrassment, guilt. Damn this whole day. With his hands firmly pressed into the frozen tailgate, Adam tried to still his shaking legs as he waited for the first strike. 14, he reminded himself. 14.

The cracking sound of leather was deafening against the cold still of winter and the lash pushed a silent gasp from Adam’s throat. He wasn’t gonna cry. He wasn’t. He was gonna be tough and silent, just like Sam. If Sam could lie and take beatings, so could Adam. He could. He would.

There was a long pause and Adam closed his eyes waiting on the next hit. Dad was gonna draw this one out. He was gonna take his time, let them freeze to death out here in the icy January winter of New Jersey, while Adam got to think about what he did between each bite of the belt.

Just before Adam could huff in annoyance the next hit came, landing solidly and pushing him into the truck. Another was right behind it and Adam scrunched his eyes shut against the white-hot blooming pain.

There was silence again, only the sounds of Adam’s ragged breathing between them. Adam could feel his father’s presence behind him, standing like a stone, fury radiating off him.

Adam didn’t move, only licked his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, hating the anticipation of pain.

Finally the belt came down again, three strokes in a row this time, evenly spaced across his backside and leaving Adam silently screaming into the winter air. Dad stopped again, letting Adam get his breath. Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes and Adam wondered how he was ever gonna get through another whipping back at the motel.

The next four lashes where again evenly spaced and landed soundly. Dad wasn’t playing around. Holding in his tears and trying to breath through strangled breaths Adam laid his forehead down onto the cold tailgate of the truck. He wasn’t gonna make it. He wasn’t gonna be able to be strong like Sam.

Two more strikes and Adam’s tears flowed, falling hotly from his eyes and landing gently against the icy black tailgate.

Another heavy hit and Adam cried out in pain, hating himself for his weakness.

“Please Dad!” he begged, just as the next lash came down hard against him.

Dad was silent behind him, but Adam could still feel the anger radiating from him.

“Stand up Adam,” he said, “We’re done for now,”

Adam cried harder at his words, snot filling his nose and dread rushing through his veins.

“Stand up Adam,” Dad commanded again, his voice firm but calm.

Adam turned his puffy, snot covered face into the tailgate for just a moment more, relishing in the cold steel, before pushing his hands against it to stand up.

“Get in the truck,” Dad ordered, as he threaded his belt back through the loops of his jeans.

Adam swallowed and obeyed, pushing away from the truck, walking on shaky weak legs back to the driver’s side. This wasn’t the first time he’d been laid out against the tailgate of the truck, but somehow it seemed to get worse each time.

Still sobbing and hiccupping, Adam opened the door and hesitated. He did not want to sit. He didn’t want to sit down ever again in fact. And shit, after tonight at the motel, he might never be able to.

Adam heard Dad’s door open across the cab and he whimpered, knowing that he had to get in and sit down or else face his father’s wrath again for disobedience.

Swallowing hard, Adam made himself put one leg into the cab and quickly sat down on the bench seat, moaning as the aching throb transformed once more into a piercing pain.

Dad was silent as he got into the cab and didn’t acknowledge Adam’s quiet crying.

Adam didn’t look at him either. He didn’t want to. Dad was still mad. Mad enough that Adam was gonna get another round when they got back to the motel.

“You wanna tell me where your brother is in all this?” Dad asked, once they had pulled back into the main road.

Adam was quiet. He was tempted to say “No sir,” but that was more disrespect then he was willing to risk at this point.

“Adam?” Dad asked again, his tone telling Adam he better answer with something.

But what the hell was Adam gonna say? There wasn’t any excuse as to why Dean hadn’t already come to pick Adam up from the police station. Surely Officer Reynolds had told Dad how many times they’d called his brother. Maybe Dad was thinking the worst: that something had happened to Dean. As far as Dad knew that would be the only reason his first-born would ever shirk his responsibility to his brother.

“I don’t know sir,” Adam said, his voice still thick with tears, “He was around Saturday before I went out,”

Adam prayed the vague answer would be enough for his father and that he wouldn’t be pushed further on the subject, he honestly didn’t think he could come up with a good lie right now.

Dad scowled and pushed down the accelerator, picking up speed along the back road.

-/-/-/-/-/

By the time they reached the motel Adam had regained control of himself, although both his head and his backside hurt like a bitch.

As they pulled toward the parking lot Adam could clearly see Dean’s beloved Impala sitting parked in front of their motel room and he glanced across the cab to see confusion growing on his father’s face. Dad whipped the truck into the parking spot beside the Impala and jumped out, slamming the door and hurrying toward the room not waiting for Adam to follow.

Adam was in no rush to walk into that room, knowing exactly what his father was likely to find. He watched from the cab of the truck as Dad fumbled for his key as he walked and in one swift movement unlocked the door and pushed it opened hard enough that it bounced off the wall behind it.

“Dean!” Dad called out, rushing into the room.

As much as Adam wasn’t looking forward to whatever turmoil was going on in that room he figured he better man up and go in. With a deep breath of preparation, he opened the truck door and gently jumped out down, wincing with every step as he walked toward the open motel room door.

Adam peered into the room before entering, catching sight of a scene that in any other situation would have caused him to laugh his ass off.

The fuzzy motel television was blaring the Golden Girls theme and Dean was passed out on one of the motel beds, slumped against the flimsy fake wooden headboard, surrounded by empty beer cans, drooling and snoring, his jeans unbuttoned and his flannel shirt haphazardly thrown on, as if he’d gone to take a piss and hadn’t bothered to readjust himself.

“Dean! Dean!” Dad said, shaking him.

“Huh? Dean mumbled roughly, waking up in confusion.

“Son?” Dad asked, seemingly unable to comprehend the scene in front of him.

“Dad? What? What ‘shew doing here?” Dean mumbled and Adam cringed at his slurred speech.

Adam finally slid into the room, gently closing the door behind him hoping not to attract any attention.

“What the hell?” Dad whispered, grabbing Dean’s upper arm and pulling him up to sit against the headboard as he glanced around at the assortment of empty beer cans littering the bed.

“How fucking drunk are you boy?” Dad growled, glaring down at Dean.

Dean coughed self-consciously; roughly running his hand over his face in a move Adam knew was his way of trying to immediately sober up.

“I’m not drunk,” he said, squeezing his eyes closed tightly, trying to make the room stop spinning.

“Goddamnit boy,” Dad said lowly.

“Whut’s going on?” Dean asked, his speech still garbled despite his best efforts.

“What’s going on is that I just picked up your little brother from the police station!”

“Sam?” Dean asked automatically, and words were like knives through Adam’s chest.

“Adam.” Dad ground out. “Did you not get any of the calls?”

“Uh….” Dean stuttered, feeling around on the bed for his phone, shoving away empty cans, making others fall on to the floor.

“Goddammit.” Dad said again and Adam could feel his rage brewing.

Dad sneered at Dean and stepped back, assessing the disarray of the motel room.

“What the fuck is this?” he snarled, waving his arm around the disheveled motel room.

Adam bit his lip as he followed his father’s eyes around the room. Yeah, it was a disaster: both beds unmade, towels hanging off doorknobs, clothes spilling out of drawers, trash all over the floor, dirty clothing laying around carelessly and empty beer cans littering the table between the beds as well as the entire bed Dean was sitting on. Dad never let them live like this. He was military in all things, including bed making and personal hygiene. Everything has a place and everything in its place, he always said. Even when Adam first came to live when them and thought nothing of throwing his shoes wherever in the motel room, he was quickly corrected. Dad never made them ‘clean’ the motel rooms or anything like that, but they were always expected to keep track of all their crap and keep the room picked up and the beds made. Somewhere along the line after Sam left though, Adam and Dean both stopped caring about Dad’s motel room rules while he was gone and mutually agreed ignore their mess and only do a quick and dirty purge right before Dad returned.

“Is this what happens when I leave?” Dad yelled at Dean.

“Not all the time…” Adam said quietly, immediately wishing he hadn’t when Dad’s fury turned on him.

“You want that second whipping now?” Dad spat out, pointing at Adam.

Adam shook his head in wide-eyed fear.

“Dad…” Dean said, quickly sobering and realizing the severity of the situation, “Look, this…”

“Goddammit Dean!” Dad yelled, beginning to pace the room, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dean froze on the bed at their father’s words, guilt and shame flooding his reddening face.

“I trusted you Dean!” Dad said, not looking at his oldest son as he paced the room, kicking at trash and discarded clothing on the floor, “You are supposed to be responsible! Supposed to be the one I can count on!”

“I am, sir,” Dean mumbled brokenly, sitting up fully and swinging his legs to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched in guilt.

“Oh you are?” Dad asked suddenly, spinning back toward Dean and stalking toward him, “You are? Then why don’t you tell me how many missed calls are on your cell phone? Why don’t you tell me what the hell you were doing while your brother was out, alone, getting arrested?”

Dean didn’t look up from the floor, only squeezed his eyes shut at the pain of his father’s accusing words.

Dad stared at him a moment, eyes narrowing in anger. Adam’s pulse began to climb in fear of what their father might do. Was he gonna punch Dean? Throw him down on the bed and beat him? Whatever it was, Adam feared that Dean would willingly allow it, all in hopes that he would be able to look his father in the eye again.

“Keys.” Dad said, leaning into Dean.

Adam felt Dean’s pause of surprise, but instantly his brother’s hand was in his pocket digging out the car keys and handing them over to their father.

“Adam.” Dad said, turning slightly and tossing the keys.

Despite his surprise, Adam stepped forward and caught the keys gently as if he’d been expecting the move.

“Both of you pack your shit. We hit the road in 10 minutes.” Dad growled toward Dean.

Dad looked away from Dean for a moment to glance at Adam to make sure his order was understood, then stomped toward the door, making Adam freeze in fear as he walked past.

As the motel door closed with a slam Adam let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Both brothers were silent and didn’t move until Adam awkwardly cleared his throat, earning a heated glare from Dean.

Adam sneered back in return and moved to start to gather up his clothing.

“You got arrested?” Dean asked, still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“Yeah…” Adam replied, not looking at his brother as he grabbed his jeans and shoes from under the other bed.

“You hurt?” Dean asked from behind him.

Adam paused for a moment thinking about the dull ache of his backside, but didn’t turn around.

“No.”

“Good.”

They were both silent as they packed their bags, finishing and coming to stand out in front of the two Winchester vehicles within the ten minutes their father demanded.

“Adam,” Dad said, walking up from the back of the truck where he’d most likely been leaning on the tailgate trying to control his temper, “You’ll drive the Impala. Keep it under the speed limit and don’t tailgate my ass when you follow alright?’

Adam nodded in return, wishing he felt the excitement he’d normally feel about the opportunity to drive the Impala. Dean had taught him to drive on the car when he was 12, but much to his disappointment the entire family seemed to have agreed that Adam’s driving should be reserved for emergency situations only. Despite numerous arguments on cross country drives, Adam had only been allowed to drive the beauty a handful of times and only then under strict supervision, with Dean hovering over him the entire time telling him not to ride the brakes.

“Dean,” Dad said lowly, causing both Adam and Dean to look up him.

“If thought it would do any good I’d belt your ass before we leave and let you ride on it for 8 or 10 hours, but seeing as you’re still piss ass drunk, it’ll have to wait. And as much as I want to have you ride with me, so I can hear the full story of what the hell has been going on, I don’t want Adam alone. Although I’m not even sure you’re useful at this point,”

Adam watched Dad’s unnecessarily cruel words hit Dean like a punch and his brother winced.

Dad gave Dean another angry, disappointed glare before turning to Adam, “Keep it between the ditches boy,” he said.

“Yes sir,” Adam replied with a nod.

Dad turned on his heels and Dean and Adam moved as well, trying to ignore the strangeness of Adam walking around to the driver’s side and sliding in behind the wheel as Dean sat shotgun.

“So…uh…driver picks the music right?” Adam asked casually, trying to lighten the mood.

Dean just stared back at him from across the car, doing a perfect impression of Sam’s ‘bitch face’ as he himself had so eloquently nicknamed.

“Yeah…ok…” Adam said, turning the key and momentarily relishing in the hearty rumble of the Impala’s engine.

Adam spared another glance at his older brother before putting the car into reverse, hoping to see Dean blatantly judging his every movement as he drove, but instead Dean had slumped down into the seat and was leaning against the door, looking despondently out the window.

Jeez, and he teased Sammy about being grumpy.

Adam bit back a sigh as he shifted gears and focused on following the taillights of Dad’s truck. He tried not to worry about Dean; his brother would bounce back from this (right? He would right?) and anyway, Adam had his own eight to ten hours of driving on a sore ass to look forward to, not to mention praying that Dad wouldn’t collect on his earlier threat of a second punishment.

More fun times with the Winchesters, Adam thought sourly to himself.

/-/-/-/-/-/

They didn’t speak as they drove, each silently staring at the winding back roads Dad chose to take them on, knowing that the faster highways and interstates would be too dangerous for Adam to drive on, a risk they couldn’t take when they were already fleeing from local police.

Dean was sitting shotgun. Freaking shotgun. Forced to watch as his baby brother drove his beautiful baby of a car, riding the brakes the entire time. Dean shook his head. He deserved it. Hell, he deserved a lot more than this particular form of torture. Shit, he half wished Dad would have belted him in the parking lot before they hit the road. It’d be embarrassing and painful as hell sure, but it might have gone a little ways toward making him feel better.

He sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window, closing his eyes momentarily. He wanted to go to sleep so badly. He also wanted to throw up, but he wasn’t gonna let himself do that either. He’d made this mess, goddammit and he was gonna suffer through it.

God, he was an asshole. If it wasn’t bad enough that he’d fucked up his relationship with Sam over the whole leaving for college thing, he was well on his way to fucking up things with Adam too.

He knew he’d been doing it too, which was the worst part. He could see himself prodding at Adam, teasing him with direct and vicious jabs, egging him on to fight for any stupid reason. It wasn’t hard to get the kid started either. He had enough Winchester in him that it only took a few well-placed taunts and the kid was off and swinging the hard right hooks that Dean had taught him. He knew it wasn’t fair of him to keep riling Adam up, but all the hurt, confusion and pain had left him spinning and filled with a bubbling fury he didn’t really understand. He needed to go and hunt, gank some ghost assholes or something…kill something, but of course he was still supposed to be taking care of the kid.

Fucking great job he was doing at that.

The rage and misery that was simmering in him most of the time these days was part of the reason he’d started with the six packs. He needed to mellow out. He didn’t drink the hard stuff, like Dad did. He didn’t wanna start down that road. But he needed to chill the hell out or he was gonna knock Adam’s freaking teeth out the next time the kid mouthed off at him.

Dean clenched his fists as a wave of nausea rolled through him as Adam slowed around a wide curve in the road.

He sighed as it passed, swallowing the saliva that had developed in his mouth. Stealing a glance across the smooth leather seats, Dean studied his youngest brother.

Adam was suffering too, he realized looking at the kid. Not as deeply maybe, and not in the same way, Dean rationalized, but he sure as hell was suffering. The kid was pale, eyes a little too sunken and freckles standing out across his nose. Shit, he was too skinny.

Fuck, Dean thought to himself with a sudden awareness…

No.

“Did you get arrested for stealing food?” he asked accusingly, unable to keep the anger and irritation from his voice.

Adam glared at him for only a second before looking back to the road, “What do you care?” he mumbled.

Dean cursed himself. What kinda fucking brother doesn’t know his little brother is stealing food? What kinda fucking situation had he gotten them in? He distantly remembered Adam asking a long time ago about taking peanut butter or something from a little mom and pop market, but Dean had told him how stupid it was. He knew first hand how close those owners watched their shelves and how easy it was to get caught.

Dean tried to remember the last time he’d brought back dinner or groceries for them.

He remembered grabbing the six packs….

He must have gotten some other stuff too right?

Right?

He didn’t just leave Adam with nothing.

No.

Wait.

Fuck, did he?

Fuck.

Had Dean really been so caught up in his personal misery that he didn’t bring home food for Adam? Dean wracked his brain to think of the last time he brought back meals for them and he realized it had been since before Dad left. He held it together while Dad was around, but the minute Dad hit the road for the hunt all Dean had been able to think about was getting away and getting a break. He hit the bars, hit up the ladies and just tried to get out of his head for a little while. He hadn’t even really thought about what Adam was doing. Its not like he was gone that long though, one night or two maybe…

But that was just this time, he reminded himself.

Dean kicked himself again. He’d been hiding in bars and six packs on and off for months now. He couldn’t let Dad see what a mess he was. He needed to be strong. But he also needed to get away.

So how long had Adam been doing this? Weeks? Months?

Had Dean really failed his brother so badly?

Another glance into Adam’s miserable, young face gave Dean every answer he needed. He had failed Adam. Just like he’d failed Sam. He was a useless, worthless excuse for a brother.

“Kid…” Dean started softly, trying to find the words to start asking for the forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

“Don’t yell at me Dean!” Adam shot back, anticipating the fight that Dean would have normally been searching for, “I’ve got enough to deal with. I don’t need your shit too!”

The anger that Dean would have ordinarily felt rise up at Adam’s belligerent tone was gone, replaced by a deep self-disgust that caused Dean to physically recoil from his little brother’s words.

There was nothing he could say, nothing that would even begin to apologize for the damage that Dean had inflicted on his brother over the past few months. Sorry would never be enough. Outside of a few weeks of relative normalcy, Dean had not only abandoned his brother, but also neglected his basic needs, forcing Adam into doing things that Dean had always cautioned against. And all that blame landed directly at Dean’s feet.

If he’d been paying attention, taking care of his brother the way he was supposed to, the way he knew how to, Adam would have never been arrested, never been out stealing food or doing God knows what else to fend off hunger.

Fuck, Dean thought as panic choked him, please let it only be stealing.

He wanted to ask. To make sure Adam was ok. Make sure that he wasn’t damaged beyond repair due to Dean’s selfishness and carelessness, but his mouth was dry. Just like the apologies twisting around in his throat, the questions stole his breath and the fear silenced him.

Dean stared into the Impala’s glossy side mirror and took in his own miserable reflection: sallow skin, scraggly beard coming in, red and unfocused eyes, he didn’t look a hell of a lot better than Adam did.

Sam would hate this.

The thought shocked Dean. He tried not to think of Sam in that way, that ‘what-he-would-have-wanted-dead-guy’ kinda way. It was just wrong. Sam wasn’t dead. He was just gone.

Gone. Not part of the family. Not safe. But not dead at least.

Dean huffed quietly, forcing himself to stop thinking about Sam. Sam was gone. Adam was here. And Dean needed to get it together.

He was better when he was looking out for someone anyway, he figured. That’s who he was. Big brother. That’s who he was gonna be again, he vowed. Adam deserved to have the same great big brother that Sam got. The guy that went to bat for him against Dad, that took his side, took care of him and taught him everything he knew.

With any luck Adam wouldn’t abandon everything Dean gave him in favor of some stupid fucking apple pie life.

Adam was a different kid, Dean reminded himself. Adam had seen the true depth of evil and lost painfully to it in the same way that Dean had. Sam had lost as well, of course, but not in the same visceral way that both Dean and Adam had. Something like that changes a person.

Anyway, Dean thought shaking his head gently then regretting the move when it sent another lingering wave of nausea through him, he was gonna do better and be better. Adam was gonna get more than a drunk ass for a brother, that was for damn sure. Starting with Dean not commenting on how freaking much this kid was killing the brakes on his baby….


End file.
